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eturned 






To be returned 



8 NOV. 1337 



', 1 o:- 






\i w^ \^1^> 




G- IIX HER 




3000767 15T 




SCOTS SONGS. 



Vol. II. 



J 



ANCIENT AND MODERN 

SCOTTISH SONGS, 

HEROIC BALLADS. 

ETC. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOLUME the SECOND. 

The garb our Mufes wore in former years. 

Hamilton. 



EDINBURGH: 
Printed by John Wqtherspoon, 

FOR 

Jambs Dickson and Charles Ellic 
MDCCLXXVI. 



ANCIENT AND MODERN 

SCOTTISH SONGS, 

HEROIC BALLADS, 

ETC. 



COLLECTED FROM 
MEMORY, TRADITION, 

and 

ANCIENT AUTHORS. 



THE SECOND EDITION 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOLUME the SECOND. 



EDINBURGH: 
Printed by John Wotherspo'on, 

FOR 

James Dickson and Charles Elliot. 

MDCCLXXVI. 



F R A G M E N T S 

O F 

S E NT I M E N T A L 

AND 

LOVE SONGS. 

To its own Tune. 

HOW can I be blyth or glad, 
Or in my mind contented be, 
When the bonny bonny lad that I loed beft. 
Is banifh'd from my company. 

Though he is banilh'd for my fake, 

I his true love will Hill remain; 
But O that I was, and I wilh I was 

In the chamber where my true love is in, 

I dare nae come to my true love, 

I dare nae either fport or play, 
For their evil evil tongues are going fo gell, 

That I muH kifs and go my way. 

Rifling is but a foolilh fancy. 

It brings two lovers into fin; 
But O that I was, and I wiih I was 

In the chamber where my love is in. 

Vol. II. (i) A 



2 SCOTS SONGS. 

My trae love is ilraight and tall, 

I had nae will to lay him nae. 
For with his falfe, but fweet deluding tongue. 

He Hole my very heart away. 



The Lowlands of Holland. 

TiTY love has built a bonny fliip, and fet her on the fea. 
With feven fcoregood mariners to bearher company; 
There's three fcore is funk, and threefcore dead at fea. 
And the lowlands of Holland has twin'd my love and me- 

My love he built another fhip, and fet her on the main. 
And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame. 
But thewearywind began to rife, and the feabegantorout^ 
My love then and his bonny fliip tum'dwitherihins about; 

There fliall neither coif come on my head, nor comb come 

in my hair; 
There ihall neither coal nor candle light ihine in my 

bower mair. 
Nor will I love another one, until the day I die. 
For I never lov'd a love but one, and he's drown'd in 

the fea. 

O had your tongue my daughter dear, be flill and be 

content, 
There are mair lads in Galloway, yeneednae fair lament; 
O ! there is nane in Galloway, there's nane at a' for me. 
For I never loVd a love but ane, and he's drown'd m 

the fea. 



SCOTS SONGS. 

LiZAE BaILLIE. 

T IzaeBaillie's to Gartartanganey 

To fee her (ifler Je an; 
And there fhe's met wi' Duncan GRJBiiK, 
And he's convo/d her hame. 

" My bonny LiZAE Baillie, 

111 row ye in my plaidie. 
And ye maun gang alang wi' me. 

And be a Highland lady." 

*' I am fure they wad nae ca' me wife^ 

Gin I wad gang wi* you, Sir; 
For I can neither card nor fpin. 

Nor yet milk ewe or cow, Sir." 

'' My bonny Lizae Baillie, 
Let nane o' thefe things daunt ye; 

Ye'll hae nae need to card or fpin, 
Your mither weel can want ye." 

Now (he's caft aff her bonny fhoen. 

Made o' the gilded leather, 
And fhe's put on her highland brogues^ 

To fkip amang the heather: 

And Ihe's call aflf her bonny gown. 

Made o' the Hlk and latdii, 
And fhe's put on a tartan plaid, 

To row amang the braken. 

She wad nae hae a Lawland laird. 

Nor be an Englifh lady; 
But (he wad gang wi' Duncan GRiEMS, 

And row her in his plaidie. 

A2 



4 SCOTS SONGS. 

She was nae ten miles £rae the town, 

When (he began to weary; 
She aften looked back, and faid, 

'* Farewell to Caftlecarry. 

" The firll place I faw my Duncan Gr^me 

Was near yon hoUand bulh. 
My father took frae me my rings, 

My rings but and my purfe. 

*' But I wad nae giemyDuNCANGR^ME 

For a' my father's land. 
Though it were ten times ten times mair. 

And a* at my command." 

* * * * 

Now wae be to you, loggerheads. 

That dwell near Cafllecarry, 
To let awa fic a bonny lafs, 

A Highlandman to marry. 



r\ Gin my love were yon red rofe. 

That grows upon the caiUe wa' ! 
And I myfell a drap of dew, 
Into her bonny bread to fa' ! 

Oh, there beyond expreffion blefl 
I'd feafl on beauty a' the night; 

SeaFd on her filk-faft falds to reft, 
Till flyed awa by Phoebus light 



SCOTS SONGS. 5 

Love is the caufe of my mourning. 

"D Eneath a green willow's fad ominous Ihade 

A fimple fweet youth extended was laid; 
They afk'd what ail'd him, when iighing he laid, 
O love is the caufe of my mourning! 

Long loVd I a lady, fair, gende, and gay, 
And thought myfelf loved for many a day; 
But now ihe is married, is married away, 
And love is the caufe of my mourning ! 

• • • • 

And when deck'd as a bride to the kirk ihe did go, 
With bride-men and maidens, with pomp and with (how, 
She finil'd in appearance — ^Ihe fmil'd, but was woe; 
O love is the caufe of my mourning! 

• « • • 

And when I had feen my love taken to bed. 
And when they all kifs'd the bridegroom and bride, 
Heavens! thought I, and mufl he then ly by her fide ? 
O love is the caufe of my mourning! 

Now dig me, companions, a grave dark and deep. 
Lay a done at my head and a tuif at my feet. 
And O m ly down, and 111 take a long fleep, 
Nor wake for ever and ever! 



/^ O O D morrow, fair miflrefs, the beginner of flrife, 
^^ I took ye frae the begging, and made ye my wife ; 
It was your fair outfide that fiifi took my ee. 
But this fall be the lafl time my face ye fall fee. 

A3 



6 SCOTS SONGS. 

Fye on ye, ill woman, the bringer o' fliame, 
The abufer o' love, the difgrace o' my name; 
The betrayer o' him that fo trailed in thee : 
But this is the lail time my face ye fall fee. 

To the ground (hall berazed thefehalls and thefebowers, 

Defil'd by. your lufls and your wanton amours : 

111 find out a lady of higher degree. 

And this is the lail time my face ye fall fee. 



17 A L S E luve ! and hae ze played me this, 

In the fimmer, *mid the flowers? 
I fall repay ze back again, 
In the winter 'mid the (howers. 

Bot again, dear luve, and again, dear luve. 

Will ze not turn again? 
As ze look to ither women, 

Shall I to ither men. 



r\ M Y bonny, bonny May, 
"Will ye not rae upon me; 
A found, found fleep I'll never get. 
Until I lye ayont thee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 

Ill gie ze fouT-and-twenty gude milk kye, 
Wore a' caft in ae year. May; 

And a bonnie bull to gang them by. 
That blude-red is his hair, May. 

I hae nae houfes, I hae nae land, 

I hae nae gowd or fee, Sir; 
I am o'er low to be your bryde, 

Zour lown 111 never be, Sir. 



END OF PART SECOND. 



i 



SCOTS SONGS. 



PART THIRD. 



COMIC 



AND 



HUMOROUS SONGS 



p _!•: 



SCOTS SONGS. 

PART THIRD. 

COMIC 

AND 

HUMOROUS SONGS. 



Apron Deary. 

^^TT^WAS early in the morning, a morning of May, 
J[^ A foldier and a lailie was wauking ailray; 

Clofe down in yon meadow, yonmeadow brow, 
I heard the lafs cry, my apron now, 
My apron, deary, my apron now. 
My belly bears up my apron now. 
But I being a young thing, was eafy to woo. 
Which maks me cry out. My apron now. 

O had I ta'en counfel o' father or mother, 
Or had'I advifed wi' filler or brother. 
But I being a young thing, and eafy to woo. 
It makes me cry out, My apron now. 
My apron, deaiy, &*c. 

Your apron, deary, I muft confefs, 

Seems fomething the Ihorter, tho' naething the lefe; 



12 SCOTS SONGS. 

Then had your tongue, deaiy, and I will prove true, 
And nae mair cry out, Your apron now. 

Your apron, deary, 6^c, ^Your belly, &»c 

Then had your tongue, &»c. 



Auld Rob Morris. 

M I T H £ R. 

A ULD Rob Morris that wins in yon glen, 

He's the king of good fallows, and wale of auld men. 
Has fourfcore of black ftieep, and fourfcore too; 
Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lue. 

DOUCHTER. 

Had your tongue, mither, and let that abee. 
For his eild and my eild can never agree : 
They'll never agree, and that will be feen; 
For he is fourfcore, and I'm but fifteen. 

MITHER. 

Had your tongue, doughter, and lay by your pride, 
For he's be the bridegroom, and ye's be the bride : 
He Ihall ly by your fide, and kifs ye too; 
Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lue. 

DOUCHTER. 

Auld Rob MorrisI ken him fou weel, 
His a — flicks out like ony peet-creel, 
He's out-lhin'd, in-knee'd, and ringle-eye'd too; 
Auld Rob Morris is the man I'll ne'er lue. 



SCOTS SONGS. 13 

HITHER. 

Tho' auld RoBMoRRisbean elderly man. 
Yet his auld brafs it will buy a new pan; 
Then, douchter, ye (houdna be fo ill to Ihoo, 
For auld RoBMoRRisisthe man ye maun hie. 

DOUCHTER. 

But auld RobMorrisI never will hae, 
His back is fo llifF, and his beard is grown gray: 
I had titter die than live wi* him a year; 
Sae mair of RobMorrisI never will hear. 



Auld Goodman. 

T A T E in an evening forth I went, 

A little before the fun ga'd down, 
And there I chanc'd by accident, 

To light on a battle new begun : 
A man and his wife was faen in a llrife, 

I canna weel tell you how it began; 
But ay fhe wail'd her wretched life. 

And cry'd ever, Alake, my auld goodmaiu 

H £. 

Thy auld goodman that thou tells of, 

The country kens where he was bom, 
Was but a filly poor vagabond, 

And ilka ane leugh him to fcom; 
For he did fpend and mak an end 

Of gear that his forefathers wan, 

Vol. II. B 



14 SCOTS SONGS. 

He gait the poor (land frae the door, 
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman. 

SHE. 

My heart, alake, is liken to break, 

When I think on my winfome John, 
His blinken ee, and gait fae free, 

Was naething like thee, thou dozen'd drone: 
His rofie face, and flaxen hair, 

And a fldn as white as ony fwan. 
Was large and tall, and comely withal, 

And thou'lt never be like my auld goodman. 

H E. 

Why dofl thou pleen? I thee maintain, 

For meal and mawt thou difha want; 
But thy wild bees I canna pleafe. 

Now when our gear 'gins to grow fcant 
Of houfehold lluflf thou haft enough, 

Thou wants for neither pat nor pan; 
Of ficklike ware he left thee bare, 

Sae tell nae mair o' thy auld goodman* 

SHE. 

Yes, I may tell, and fret my fell, 

To think on thefe blyth days I had, 
When he and I together lay 

In arms into a weel made bed: 
But now I figh and may be fad. 

Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan. 
Thou falds thy feet, and fa's afleep. 

And thoul't ne'er be like my auld goodman. 



SCOTS SONGS. 15 

Then coming was the night iae dark. 

And gane was a' the light o' day; 
The carl was fear'd to mils his maifc. 

And therefore wad nae langer flay. 
Then up he gat, and he lan his way, 

I trow the wife the day Ihe wan. 
And ay the o'erword o' the fray 

Was ever, Alake, my auld goadman. 

Auld Sir Simon the 

O O M E fay that kifling's a fin. 
But I fay that winna fland : 
It is a mofl innocent thing. 
And allow'd by the laws of the land. 

If it were a tranfgreffion, 

The miniflers it would reprove; 
Bat they, their elders and feflion. 

Can do it as weel as the lave. 

Its lang fince it came in fafhion, 

I'm fure it will never be done, 
As lang as there's in the nation, 

A lad, lafs, wife, or a lown. 

What can I fay more to commend it^ 

Tho' I fhould fpeak all my life? 
Yet this will I fay in the end o't, 

Let eVry man kifs his ain wife. 

Let him kifs her, clap her, and dawt her. 

And gie her benevolence due. 

And that ^11 a thrifty wife mak her. 

And fae Fll bid farewell to you. 

B2 



i6 SCOTS SONGS 



Auld Wife beyont the Fire. 

np HERE was a wife won'd in a glen, 
And (he had dochters nine or ten, 
That fought the houfe baith butt and ben, 
To find their mam a fnilhing. 
The auld wife beyont the fire, 
The auld wife anieft ihefire. 
The auld wife aboon the fire, 
Slie died for lack of fnijhing* , 

Her mill into fome hole had fawn, 
Whatrecks, quoth ftie, let it be gawn. 
For I maun hae a young goodman 

Shall fumifh me with fnilhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

Her eldefl dochter faid right bauld, 
Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld. 
And if ye with a younker wald, 

He'll wafle away your fnilhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

The youngell dochter gae a Ihout, 
O mother dear! your teeth's a' out, 
Befides haT blind, you hae the gout, 

Your mill can had nae fnilhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

Ye lied, ye limmers, cries auld mump. 
For I hae baith a tooth and flump, 

* Snifhing, in its literal meaning, is fnttff made of tobacco ; 
but in this fong it means fometimes contentment, a hnfband, 
love, money, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 17 

And will nae langer live in dump, 
By wanting o' my fnilhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

Thole ye, fays Peg, that pauky flut, 
Mother, if you can crack a nut, 
Then we will a' confent to it, 

That you ftiall have a fnilhing. 
77ie auld wife, &c. 

The auld ane did agree to that, 
And they a pillol-bullet gat ; 
She powerfully began to crack. 

To win herfelf a fniftiing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

Braw fport it was to fee her chow't, 
And 'tween her gums fae fqueeze and row't. 
While frae her jaws the flaver flow't, 

And ay (he curs'd poor flumpy. 
TTie auld wife, &c. 

At lafl (he gae a defperate fqueeze. 
Which brak the auld tooth by the neez. 
And fyne poor flumpy was at eafe, 

But (he tint hopes of fnifhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

She of the tafk began to tire, 
And frae her dochters did retire, 
Syne leaned her down ayont the fire, 

And died for lack of fnifhing. 
The auld wife, &c. 

Ye auld wives, notice weel this truth, 
Affoon as ye're pafl mark of mouth, 
(a) B3 



i8 SCOTS SONGS 

Ne'er do what's only fit for youth, 
And leave aff thoughts of fnifhing: 
Elfe like this wife beyont thefire^ 
Your bairns againftyou will confpire; 
Nor will ye get J unlefs ye hire, 
A young man with your Jnijhing, 



Andro and his Cutty Gun. 

"D L YTH, blyth, blyth was (he, 

Blyth was fhe butt and ben; 
And weel (he loo'd a Hawick gill, 

And leugh to fee a tappit hen. 
She took me in, and fet me down. 

And heght to keep me lawin-free; 
But, cunning carlin that (he was, 

She gart me birle my bawbie. 

We loo'd the liquor weel enough; 

But waes my heart my calh was done, 
Before that I had quench'd my drowth, 

And laith I was to paund my flioon. 
When we had'three times toom'd our floup, 

And the neill chappin new begun. 
In ftarted, to heeze up our hope, 

Young A N D R o wi' his cutty gun. 

The carlin brought her kebbuck ben, 
With girdle-cakes weel toafled brown : 

Weel does the canny kimmer ken 
They gar the feuds gae glibber down. 



SCOTS SONGS. 19 

We ca'd the bicker aft about; 

Till dawning we ne'o* jee'd our bun : 
And ay the cleareft drinker out, 

Was A N D R o wi' his cutty gun. 

He did like ony mavis fmg, 

And as I in his oxter fat, 
He ca'd me ay his bonny thing, 

And mony a fappy kifs I gat 
I hae been eafl, I hae been weft, 

I hae been far ayont the ftm; 
But the blytheft lad that e'er I faw, 

Was A N D R o wi' his cutty gun. 



Bagrie o't 

TXT" H E N I think on this warld's pelf, 

And how little I hae o't to mjrfelf ; 
I figh when I look on my thread-bare coat, 
And Ihame fa' the gear and the bagrie o't 

Johnny was the lad that held the plough, 

But now he has got goud and gear enough; 

I weel mind the day when he was nae worth a groat, 

And Ihame fa', 6^^. 

Jenny was the lafs that mucked the byre. 
But now fhe goes in her filken attire; 
And Ihe was a lafs who wore a plaiden coat, 
And Ihame fa', &*c. 



20 SCOTS SONGS. 

Yet 2l this (hall never danton me, 

Sae lang^s I keep my fancy free; 

While I've but a penny to pay t' other pot, 

May the d — 1 take tlie gear and the bagrie o'L 



Birks of Abergeldie. 

T Thought it ance a lonefome life, 

A lonefome life, a lonefome life, 
I thought it ance a lonefome life, 
To ly fae lang my lane, jo : 
But wha would not my cafe regret? 
Since I am curfed wi* a mate. 
What once I long'd for, now I hate; 
I'm quite another man, jo. 

When I was full out nineteen years, 
Out nineteen years, out nineteen years, 
When I was full out nineteen years, 
I held my head fu' high, jo; 
Then I refolv'd to tak a lafs. 
Ne'er thought on what wad come to pafs. 
Nor look'd in matrimony's glafs. 
Till headlong down I came, jo. 

Before the fatal marriage-day. 

So keen was I, fo keen was I, 

I refled neither night nor day. 

But wander'd up and down, jo. 

To pleafe her I took meikle care, 

Ane wad hae thought I fought nae mair. 



SCOTS SONGS. 21 

In the wide warld to my (hare, 
But her wrapt in her gown, jo. 

My ain fma' llock did fcarce defray, 
Did fcarce defray, did fcarce defray, 
My ain fma' (lock did fcarce defray. 
Half of the marriage-charge, jo ; 
For things belanging to a houfe, 
I gave till I left ne'er a fouce; 

but I'm turned wond'rous doufe, 
And filler's nae fae large, jo. 

Her father, and her friends likewife. 
Her friends likewife, her friends likewife, 
Did had her out for fuch a prize, 

1 thought nae labour loll, jo. 

I drefs'd myfel' from neck to heel. 
And a' was for a gilded pill; 
Now I would wifh the meikle deil 
Had her, and pay the coll, jo. 

Her father fent a Ihip to fea, 
A Ihip to fea, a Ihip to fea, 
When it returns, quoth he to me, 
I'll pay you ilka plack, jo. 
The fervants grumble, goodwife raves, 
When hungry llomach for them craves, 
Now I am tauld by the auld knave. 
The Ihip will ne'er came back, jo. 

Alack-a-day, what will I do, 
What will I do, what wall I do? 
Alack-a-day what will I do? 
The honey-month is done, jo. 



22 SCOTS SONGS. 

My glitfring gold is all tum'd drofs, 1 

And filler fcarcely will be brafs. ' 

JVe nothing but a bonny lafs, 
And (he's quite out of tune, jo. 

Yet (he lays a' the blame on me, 
The blame on me, the blame on me, 
Says I brought her to mifery, 
This is a weary Hfe, jo. 
I'd run to the wide warld*s end, 
If I cou'd leave but her behind; 
I'm out o' hopes (he'll ever mend ; 
She's prov'd a very wife, jo. 

Now, bachelors, be wife in time. 
Be wife in time, be wife in time, 
Tho' (he's ca'd modeft, fair and fine, 
And rich in goud and plate, jo; 
Yet ye'U have caufe to curfe hard Fate, 
If once (he catch you in her net; 
Your blazing (lar will foon be fet; 
Then look before you leap, jo. 



Bob of Dumblane. 

T A s s I E, lend me your braw hemp heckle. 

And 111 lend you my ripling kame; 
For fainnefs, deary, I'll gar ye keckle, 

If ye'll go dance the Bob of Dumblane. 
Hade ye gang to the ground of your trunkies, 

Bu(k ye braw, and dinna think (hame; 
Confider in time, if leading of monkies 

Be better than dancing the Bob of Dumblane. 



SCOTS SONGS. 23 

Be frank, my lailie, lefl I grow fickle, 

And tak my word and offer again, 
Sype ye may chance to repent it meikle 

Ye did not accept of the Bob of Dumblane. 
The dinner, the piper, and priefl (hall be ready, 

For I'm grown dowie wi' lying my lane; 
Away then leave baith minny and dady. 

And try wi' me the Bob of Dumblane. 



Butter May. 

TN yonder town there wons a M a y, 
Snack and perfyte as can be ony, 
She is fae jimp, lae gamp, fae gay, 

Sae capomoytie, and fae bonny; 
She has been woo'd and loo'd by mony, 

But fhe was very ill to win; 
She wadna hae him except he were bonny, 

Tho' he were ne'er fae noble of kin. 

Her bonn3niefs has been forfeen. 

In ilka town baith far and near, 
And when fhe kirns her minny's kirn, 

She rubs her face till it grows clear; 
But when her minny did perceive 

Sic great inlack amang the butter. 
Shame fa' that filthy face of thine, 

Tis creefli that gars your grunzie ghtter. 
Theris Dunkyfon, Davyfon, Robie Cameil, 
The lafs wr the petticot dances right weei. 
Sing Stidrum, Stouthrum, Suthmm Stonny, 
An ye dance ony mair wife tell Mefs J o h n y. 
Sing^ &c. 



24 SCOTS SONGS. 

Blythfome Bridal. 

J^Y let us (£ to the bridal. 

For there will he lilting there. 
For Joe k's to be married /^Maggie, 
The lafs wV the gowden hair. 
And there will be langkail and porridge, 

And bannocks of barley-meal, 
And there will be good fawt herring, 
To relilh a cogue of good ale. 
Fy let us, &lc 

And there will be S a w n e y the foutar, 

And W I L L wi' the meikle mou : 
And there will be T a m the blutter, 

With A N D R E w the tinkler I trow; 
And there will be boVd-legged R o b i e. 

With thumblefs Katie's goodman; 
And there will be blue-cheeked D o w b i e, 

And L A w R I E the laird of the land. 
Fy let us, &c. 

And there will he fowlibber P A t i e. 

And plucky-fac'd W a t i' th' mill, 
Capper-nos'd F r a n ci e, and G i b b i e 

That wons in the how o* the hill; 
And there will beALASTERSiBBiE, 

AVha in wi' black Bessy did mool, 
With fiiivling Lilly, and T i b b y, 

The lafs that (lands oft on the flool. 
Fy let us, &c. 

And Madge that was buckled to S t e n n i e, 
And coft him grey breeks to his arfe, 



SCOTS SONGS. 25 

Wha after was hangit for ftealing, 

Great mercy it happened nae warfe : 
And there will be gleed Geordy Jankers^ 

And K I R s H wi' the lily-white leg, 
Who gade to the fouth for manners, 

And bang'd up her wame in Monfmeg. 
Fy let us^ &c. 

And there will beJuDENMECLOURiE, 

And blinkin daft Barbara Macleg, 
Wi' flea-lugged lhamey-fac*d L a w r i e, 

And Ihangy-mou'd halucket Meg, 
And there will be happer-ars*d N a n s y, 

And fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name, 
Muck M A D I e, and fat-hippet G R i s y, 

The lais wi' the gowden wame. 
Fy let usy &c. 

And there will be gim-again G i b b y, 

Wi' his glaiket wife JennyBell, 
And meafly-lhin'd MungoMacapie, 

The lad that was fkipper himfel : 
There lads, and lalTes in pearlings. 

Will feafl i' the heart of the ha', 
On fybows, and rifarts, and carlings, 

That are baith fodden and raw. 
Fy let us, &c 

And there will be fadges and brochen, 

With fouth of good gabbock of Ikate, 
Powfowdie, and drammock, and crowdie. 

And caller nowtfeet in a plate. 
And there will be partens and buckies, 

And whytens and fpaldings enew, 
Vol. II. C 



26 SCOTS SONGS. 

And fmgit Iheepheads, and a haggles, 
• And fcadlips to fup till ye fpue. 
Fy let uSy &c. 

And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks, 

And fowenSy and farles, and baps, 
With fwats, and well-fcraped paunches, 

And brandy in ftoups and in caps: 
And there will be mealkail and cailocks, 

And fldnk to fup till ye rive; 
And roalls to roafl on a brander 

Of flowks that were taken alive. 
Fy let usy &c 

Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dulfe, and tangles, 

And a mill of good fnifliing to prie; 
When weary with eating and drinking. 
We'll rife up and dance till we die. 
Thenfy let us <C to the bridal^ 

For there will be lilting there. 
For Jock's to be married to Maggie, 
The lafs w^ thegowden hair. 



The Jolly Beggar. 

•Tp HERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was 

bound. 
And he took up his quarters into a land'art town. 
And w^ II gang nae mair a roving 

Sae late into the night. 
And w^ II gang nae mair a ro7)ing, boys. 

Let the moonjhine nierfae bright. 
And wiU gang nae mair a roving. 



SCOTS SONGS. 2^ 

He wad neither ly in bam, nor yet wad he in byre, 
But in ahint the ha' door, or elfe afore the fire. 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

The beggar's bed was made at e'en wi* good clean flraw 

and hay, 
And in ahint the ha' door, and there the beggar lay. 
And will gang nae mair^ &c 

Up raife the goodman's dochter, and for to bar the door, 
And there flie faw the beggar llandin i' the floor. 
And will gang nae mair^ &c 

He took the laflie in his arms, and to the bed he ran, 
O hooly, hooly wi' me, Sir, ye'll waken our goodman. 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

The beggar was a cimnin' loon, and ne'er a word he 

fpake, 
Until he got his turn done, fyne he began to crack. 
, '^ And will gang nae mair, &c 

Is there ony dogs into this town? Maiden, tell me true. 
And what wad ye do wi' them, my hinny and mydow? 
t And will gang nae mair, &c. 

TheyTl rive a' my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang. 
O dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor man? 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

Then (he took up the mealpocks and flang them o'er 

the wa'. 
The d — ^1 gae wi' the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a'. 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

C 2 



28 SCOTS SONGS. 

I took ye for fome gentleman, at leafl the Laird of 

Brodie; 
O dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor bodie? 
And wcHl gang nae mair^ &c. 

He took the laflie in his arms, and gae her kiffes three, 
And four-and-twenty hunder mark to pay the nurice fee. 
And w^ll gang nae mairy &c. 

He took a horn frae his fide, and blew baith loud and 

fhrill, 
And four-and-twenty belted knights came fkipping o'er 

the hill. 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

And he took out his little knife, loot a' his duddies fa'. 
And he was the brawefl gentleman that was amang 
them a'. 
And will gang nae mair, &c. 

The beggar was a diver loon, and he lap (houlder height, 
O ay for ficken quarters as I gat yeflemight. 
Afid will gang nae mair^ &c. 



The Humble Beggar. 

TN Scotland there liVd a humble beggar, 

He had neither houfe, nor hald, nor hame, 
But he was weel liked by ilka bodie. 
And they gae him funkets to rax his wame. 

A nivefow of meal, and handfow of groats, 
A daad of a bannock or herring-brie, 



SCOTS SONGS. 29 

Cauld parradge, or the lickings of plates, 
Wad mak him as blyth as a beggar could be. 

This beggar he was a humble beggar, 
The feint a bit of pride had he, 
He wad a ta'en his a*ms in a bikker 
Frae gentleman or poor bodie. 

His wallets ahint and afore did hang, 
In as good order as wallets could be; 
A lang kail-gooly hang down by his fide. 
And a meikle nowt-hom to rout on had he. 

It happened ill, it happened warfe. 
It happened fae that he did die; 
And wha do ye think was at his late-wak, 
But lads and laifes of a high degree ? 

Some were blyth, and fome were lad, 
And fome they pla/d at blind Harrie; 
But fuddenly up-(larted the auld carle, 
I redd you, good folks, tak tent o' me. 

Up gat Kate that fat i' the nook, 
Vow kimmer and how do ye? 
Up he gat and ca'd her limmer, 
And ruggit and tuggit her cockemonie. 

They houkit his grave in Duket's kirk-yardy 
E'en fair fa' the companie; 
But when they were gaun to lay him i' th' yiid. 
The feint a dead nor dead was he. 

And when they brought him to Duket*s kirk-yaxd 
He dunted on the kifl, the boards did flie; 

C3 



30 SCOTSSONGS. 

And when they were gaun to put him i' the yird, 
In fell the kifl, and out lap he. 

He oyd, I'm cald, I'm unco cald, 
Fu' fall ran the folk, and fii' fafl ran he; 
But he was firil hame to his ain ingle-fide, 
And he helped to drink his am dirgie. 



Country Lafs. 

A LT H O' I be but a country lafs, 

Yet a lofty mind I bear — O, 
And think myfell as good as thofe 

That rich apparel wear — O. 
Altho' my gown be hame-fpun grey, 

My (kin it is as foft — O, 
As them that fattin weeds do wear. 
And carry their heads aloft — O. 

What tho' I keep my father's fheep? 

The thing that mufl be done — O, 
With garlands of the fineft flow'rs 

To (hade me frae the fun — O. 
When they are feeding pleafantly, 

Where grafs and flowers do fpring — O, 
Then on a flow'ry bank at noon, 

I fet me down and ling — O. 

My Paifley piggy cork'd with lage. 
Contains my drink but thin — O. 

No wines do e'er my brain enrage. 
Or tempt my mind to fin — O. 



SCOTS SONGS. 31 

My country curds and wooden fpoon 

I think them unco fine — O, 
And on a flowery bank at noon 

I fet me down and dine — O. 

Altho' my parents cannot raife 

Great bags of fhining gold — O, 
Like them whofe daughters now-a-days 

Like fwine are bought and fold — O; 
Yet my fair body it Ihall keep 

An honell heart within — O, 
And for twice fifty thoufand crowns 

I value not a pin — O. 

I ufe nae gums upon my hair, 

Nor chains about my neck — O, 
Nor fhining rings upon my hands, 

My fingers ftraight to deck — O. 
But for that lad to me Ihall fa', 

And I have grace to wed — O, 
111 keep a jewel worth them a', 

I mean nay maidenhead — O. 

If canny Fortune give to me 

The man I dearly love — O, 
Tho' we want gear I dinna care. 

My hands I can improve — ^O. 
Expedling for a bleffmg flill 

Defcending from above — O, 
Then well embrace and fweetiy kils, 

Repeating tales of love — O. 



32 SCOTS SONGS. 

Clout the Caldron. 

XT AVE you any pots or pans, 

Or any broken chandlers? 
I am a tinker to my trade, 

And newly come frae Flanders, 
As fcant of filler as of grace, 

Difbanded, weVe a bad run; 
Gar tell the lady of the place, 
I'm come to clout her cauldron. 
Fa adrie, didle, didle^ &c 

Madam, if you have wark for me, 

111 do't to your contentment, 
And dinna care a fingle flie 

For any man's refentment; 
For lady fair, though I appear 

To ev'ry ane a tinker, I 

Yet to yourfell I'm bauld to tell, 

I am a gentle jinker. 

Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c. I 

Love Jupiter into a fwan 

Tum'd for his lovely Led a; 
He like a bull o'er meadows ran. 

To carry aff Europa. • ^ 

Then may not I, as well as he, 

To cheat your Argos bhnker, ^ i 

And win your love like mighty J o v 

Thus hide me in a tinkler. 
Fa adricy didle, didle. Sec 

Sir, ye appear a cunning man, 
But this fine plot you'll fail in, 



1 



SCOTS SONGS. 33 

For there is neither pot nor pan 

Of mine you'll drive a nail in. 
Then bind your budget on your back. 

And nails up in your apron, 
For I've a tinkler under tack 

That's us'd to clout my caldron. 
Fa adrie, didky didle, &c. 



Carle came o'er the Craft 

np H E carl he came o'er the craft, 

And his beard new (haven. 
He look'd at me, as he'd been daft. 

The carle trows that I wad hae him. 
Howt awa, I winna hae him, 

Na, forfooth, I winna hae him ! 
For a' his beard be new fhaven, 

Ne'er a bit will I hae him. 

A filler broach he gae me neift. 

To faflen on my curchea nooked, 
I wor'd awi upon my bread; 

But foon, alake! the tongue o't crooked; 
And lae may his, I winna hae him, 

Na, forfooth, I winna hae him, 
Ane twice a bairn's a lafs's jefl, 

Sae ony fool for me may hae him. 

The carl has nae fault but ane; 

For he has lands and dollars plenty; 
But wae's me for him ! (kin and bane 

Is no for a plump lafs of twenty. 

(3) 



34 SCOTS SONGS. 

Howt awa, I winna hae him, 
Na, forfooth, I winna hae him ! 

What fignifies his dirty riggs, 

And cafh, without a man wi' them. 

But ftiou*d my canker*d dady gar 

Me tak him 'gainfl my inclination, 
I warn the fumbler to beware, 

That antlers dinna claim their llation. 
Howt awa, I winna hae him ! 

Na, forfooth, I winna hae him ! 
I'm fleed to crack the haly band, 

Sae lawty fays, I Ihou'd nae hae him. 



Caft away Care. 

O ARE, away gae thou frae me, 
For I am no fit match for thee, 
Thou bereaves me of my wits, 
Wherefore I hate thy frantic fits : 
Therefore I will care no moir, 
Since that in cares comes no refloir; 
But I will fmg hey down a dee, 
And call doilt care away fi:ae me. 

If I want, I care to get, 
The moir I have, the moir I fret; 
Love I much, I care for moir. 
The moir I have I think I'm poor: 
Thus grief and care my mind opprefs, 
Nor wealth nor wae gives no redrefs; 
Therefore I'll care no moir in vain, 
Since care has cofl me meikle pain. 



SCOTS SONGS. 35 

Is not this warld a flidd'ry ball? 
And thinks men flrange to catch a fall ! 
Does not the fea baith ebb and flow? 
And Fortune's but a painted Ihow. 
Why (hou'd men take care or grief, 
Since that by thefe comes no relief? 
Some careful law what carelefs reap, 
And wallers ware what niggarts fcrape. 

Well then, ay learn to knaw th3rfelf, 
And care not for this warldly pelf: 
Whether thy 'Hate be great or finall, 
Give thanks to Go D whatever befalL 
Sae fall thou than ay live at eafe, 
No fudden grief Ihall thee difpleafe : 
Then may'fl thou ling, hey down a dee, 
When thou hafl call all care frae thee. 



Cock Laird. 

A COCK laird fou cadgie, 
With J E N N Y did meet 
He haws'd her, he kifs'd her. 

And ca'd her his fweet 
Wilt thou gae alang 

Wi' me, Jenny, Jenny? 
Thoufe be my ain lemmane, 
Jo Jenny, quoth he. 

If I gang alang wi* ye. 

Ye mauna fail 
To feall me with caddels 

And good hacket-kail. 



36 SCOTS SONGS 

The deil's in your nicety, 

Jenny, quoth he, 
Mayna bannocks of bear-meal 

Be as good for thee. 

And I maun hae pinners. 

With pearling fet round, 
A Ikirt of puddy, 

And a waiflcoat of brown. 
Awa' with filk vanities, 

Jenny, quoth he. 
For kurchis and kirtles 

Are fitter for thee. 

My lairdfhip can yield me 

As meikle a year, 
As had us in pottage 

And good knockit beer: 
But having nae tenants, 

O Jenny, Jenny, 
To buy ought I ne'er have 

A penny, quoth he. 

The Borrowlloun merchants 

Will fell you on tick, 
For we maun hae braw things, 

Abeit they foud break. 
When broken, frae care 

The fools are fet free, 
When we mak them lairds 

In the Abbey, quoth (he. 



SCOTS SONGS. 37 



Dainty Davie. 

TJTT H I L E fops in Mt Italian verfe, 

Ilk fair ane's een and breafl rehearfe, 
While fangs abound and fenfe is fcarce, 

Thefe lines I have indited : 
But neither darts nor arrows here, 
Venus nor C u p i d fhall appear, 
And yet with thefe fine founds I fwear, 
The maidens are delighted. 
/ was ay telling you^ 
Lucky N A N s Y, lucky N a n s y, 
Auldfprings wad ding tlie new. 
But ye wad never trow me. 

Nor fnaw with crimfon will I mix, 
To fpread upon my laflie's cheeks; 
And f)me th* unmeaning name prefix, 

Miranda, Chloe, or Phillis. 
Ill fetch nae fimile fi:ae Jove, 
My height of extafy to prove. 
Nor fighing — ^thus — prefent my love, 

With rofes eke and lilies. 
I was ay telling you^ &c. 

But Hay, — I had amaifl forgot 
My millrefs and my fang to boot^ 
And that's an unco faut I wat; 

But, N A N s Y, 'tis nae matter. 
Ye fee I clink my verfe wi' rhyme, 
And ken ye, that atones the crime; 

Vol. IL D 



38 SCOTS SONGS. 

Forby, how fweet my numbers chyme, 
And Aide away like water. 
I was ay telling you ^ &c 

Now ken, my reverend fonfy fair, 
Thy runkled cheeks and lyart hair, 
Thy half-fhut een and hodling air. 

Are a* my paflion's fewel. 
Nae (kyring gowk, my dear, can fee, 
Or love, or grace, or heaven in thee; 
Yet thou hafl charms anew for me. 
Then fmile, and be nae cruel. 

Leez me on thy fnawy pow^ 

Lucky Nancy, lucky Nancy, 

Dryejl wood will eithejl low, 

And, N A N c Y,fcLe will ye now. 

Troth I have fung the fang to you. 
Which ne'er anither bard wad do; 
Hear then my charitable vow. 

Dear venerable N a n s y . 
But if the warld my paffion wrang, 
And fay ye only live in fang. 
Ken I defpife a fland'ring tongue, 
And fmg to pleafe my fancy. 
Leez me on thy, &c. 

Druken Wife o* Gallowa. 

'T\ O W N in yon meadow a couple did tarrie, 

The gudewife she drank naething but fack and Canary. 
The goodman complained to her friends right airly, 
O! gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly. 



SCOTS SONGS. 39 

Firll flie drank Crommy, and fyne (he drank Garie, 
And fyne (he drank my bonny grey marie, 
That carried me thro' the dubs and the lairie, 
O ! gin, &c. 

She drank her hofe, (he drank her flioon, 
And fyne (he drank her bonny new gown; 
She drank her fark that covered her rarely, 

! giriy &c. 

Wad (he drink her ain things, I wadna care, 
But (he drinks my claiths I canna weel fpare; 
When I'm wi' my golTips, it angers me fairly, 

1 gin, &c. 

My Sunday's coat (he has laid it a wad, 
The bed blue bonnet e'er was on my head : 
At kirk and at market I'm cover'd but barely. 
1 gin, &c. 

My bonny white mittens I wore on my hands, 
Wi' her neighbour's wife (he has laid them in pawns; 
My bane-headed (la(F that I loo'd fo dearly. 
O ! gin, &c. 

I never was for wrangHng nor (Irife, 
Nor did I deny her the comforts of life, 
For when there's a war, I'm ay for a parley. 
O ! gin, &c. 

When there's ony money, (he maun keep the purfe : 
If I feek but a bawbie, (he'll fcold and (he'll curfe ; 
She lives like a queen, I fcrimped and fparely. 
O ! gin, &c. 

D 2 



40 SCOTS SONGS. 

A pint wi' her comers I wad her allow, 
But when Ihe fits down, fhe gets herfel fu'. 
And when Ihe is fu' fhe is unco camflarie. 
1 gin, &c 

When Ihe comes to the llreet, Ihe roars and fhe rants. 
Has no fearof herneighbours, norminds the house wants; 
She rants up fome fool fang, like, Up your heart, C h a r l i £ . 
O I gin, &c. 

When fhe comes hame, fhe lays on the lads. 

The laffes fhe ca's them baith b s and j — s, 

And ca's myfel* ay ane auld cuckold carlie. 
O I gin, &c. 

For our lang Biding here. 

"f XT' H E N we came to London town, 

We dream'd of gowd in gowpens here, 
And rantingly ran up and down. 

In rifmg flocks to buy a fkair : 
We daftly thought to row in rowth. 

But for our dafiin paid right dear; 
The lave will fare the war in trouth. 

For our lang biding here. 

But when we fand our purfes toom. 

And dainty flocks began to fa'. 
We hang our lugs, and wi' a gloom, 

Gim'd at flockjobbing ane and a\ 
If ye gang near the South-fea houfe. 

The Whillywhas will grip your gear, 
S3me a' the lave will fare the war. 

For our lang biding here. 



SCOTS SONGS. 41 

For the fake of Somebody. 

J^O R the fake offomdtodyy 

For the fake offomebody ; 
I cau^d wake a Tvinter-night 
For the fake offomebody, 
I am gawn to feek a wife, 

I am gawn to buy a plaidy; 
I have three flane of woo ; 
Carling is thy doughter ready? 
For the fake, &c 

Betty, laffie, fay^t thy fell, 

Tho' thy dame be ill to Ihoo, 
Firft we'll buckle, then we'll tell, 

Let her flyte and fyne come to : 
What fignifies a mither's gloom, 

When love and kiffes come in play? 
Shou'd we wither in our bloom. 

And in fimmer mak nae hay? 
For thefakey &c 

SHE. 

Bonny lad, I carena by 

Tho' I try my luck wi' thee. 
Since ye are content to tye 

The ha'f-merk bridal-band wi' me; 
I'll flip hame and wafh my feet. 

And fleal on linens fair and clean. 
Syne at the tryfting-place we'll meet, 

To do but what my dame has done. 
For thefaJuy &c. 

D3 



42 SCOTS SONGS 

H E. 

Now my lovely Betty gives 

Confent in lick a heartfome gait, 
It me frae a' my care relieves, 

And doubts that gart me aft look blate; 
Then let us gang and get the grace; 

For they that have an appetite 
Should eat, and lovers fhould embrace ; 

If thefe be fau'ts, 'tis Nature's wyte. 
For thefake^ &c. 



Fy gar rub her o'er wi' Strae. 

/^ I N ye meet a bonny laffie, 

Gi'e her a kifs and let her gae ; 
But if ye meet a dirty hufly, 

Fy gar rub her o'er wi' flrae. 
Be fure ye dinna quit the grip 

Of ilka joy when ye are young, 
Before auld age your vitals nip, 

And lay you twafald o'er a rung. 

Sweet youth's a blyth and heartfome time; 

Then, lads and laffes, while 'tis May, 
Gae pu' the gowan in its prime, 

Before it wither and decay. 
Watch the (aft minutes of delyte. 

When Jenny fpeaks beneath her breath, 
And kiffes, laying a' the wyte 

On you, if (he kepp ony Ikaith. 



SCOTS SONGS. 43 

Haith ye're ill bred, ftie'U, fmiling, lay, 

Ye'll worry me, ye greedy rook; 
Syne frae your arms fhell rin away, 

And hide herfell in fome dark nook. 
Her laugh will lead you to the place 

Where lyes the happinefs ye want. 
And plainly tell you to your face, 

Nineteen na)days are haff a grant. 

Now to her heaving bofom cling, 

And fweetly toolie for a kifs : 
Frae her fair finger whoop a ring. 

As taiken of a future blifs. 
Thefe bennifons, I'm very fure. 

Are of the gods indulgent grant; 
Then, furly carles, whifh't, forbear 

To plague us wi' your whining cant. 



Fint a crum of thee (he fa's. 

"D E T U R N hameward, my heart, again, 
And bide where thou waft wont to be, 
Thou art a fool to suflfer pain, 

For love of ane that loves not thee; 
My heart, let be fick fantafie, 

Love only where thou haft good caufe; 
Since fcom and Hking ne'er agree, 

The fint a crum of thee ftie fa's. 

To what eflfe6l fhou'd thou be thrall? 
Be happy in thine ain firee-will. 



44 SCOTS SONGS. 

My heart, be never bellial, 

But ken wha does thee good or ill : 

And hame with me then tarry flill, 
And fee wha can befl play their paws, 

And let the filly fling her fill, 
For fint a crum of thee (he fa's. 

Tho' (he be fair, I will not feinzie. 

She's of a kin wi' mony mae : 
For why? they are a felon menzie 

That feemeth good, and are not fae. 
My heart, take neither flurt or wae 

For Meg, for Marjory, or Mause; 
But be thou bl)rth, and let her gae, 

For fint a crum of thee (he fa's. 

Remember how that Medea 

Wild for a fight of J a s o n yied j 
Remember how young Cressida 

Left TROiLUsforDiOMEDE; 
Remember Helen, as we read, 

Brought Troy from blifs unto bare wa's; 
Then let her gae where (he may fpeed, 

For fint a crum of thee (he fa's. 

Becaufe (he faid, I took it ill, 

For her depart my heart was fair. 
But was beguil'd; gae where (he will, 

Be(hrew the heart that fird takes care; 
But be thou merry, late and air. 

This is the final end and claufe. 
And let her feed and fooly fair, 

For fint a crum of thee (he fa's. 



SCOTS SONGS. 45 

Ne'er dunt again within my breall, 

Ne'er let her flights thy courage fpill, 
Nor gie a fob, although ftie fneefl, 

She's fairell paid that gets her wilL 
She geeks as gif I meant her ill, 

When Ihe glaiks paughty in her braws; 
Now let her fnirt and fyke her fill, 

For fint a cram of thee (he fa's. 



Fee him, father, fee him. 

r\ SAW ye Johny cumin, quo' Ihe, 

Saw ye Johny cumin; 
law ye Johny cumin, quo' ihe, 

Saw ye Johny cumin; 
faw ye Johny cumin, quo' fhe. 

Saw ye Johny cumin ; 
Wi' his blew bonnet on his head. 

And his dogie rinnin, quo' Ihe, 

And his dogie rinnin? 

fee him, father, fee him, quo' Ihe, 

Fee him, father, fee him; 
fee him, father, fee him, quo' fhe, 

Fee him, father, fee him; 
For he is a gallant lad, and a weil-doin, quo' fhe. 

And a' the wark about the town 
Gaes wi' me when I fee him, quo' flie, 
Gaes wi' me when I fee him. 

what will I do wi' him, quo' he. 
What will I do wi* him? 



46 SCOTS SONGS. 

He has ne*er a coat upon his back, 

And I hae nane to gi'e him. 
I hae twa coats into my kifl, 

And ane of them I'll gi*e him; 
And for a merk of mair fee 

Dinna Hand wi' him, quo' ftie, 

Dinna Hand wi' him. 

For weel do I loe him, quo' (he, weel do I loe him ; 
For weel do I loe him, quo' fhe, weel do I loe him. 
O fee him, father, fee him, quo' fhe, 

Fee him, father, fee him; 
He'll ha'd the pleugh, thrafh in the bam. 

And crack wi' me at e'en, quo' fhe. 

And crack wi' me at e'en. 



Fumbler's Rant. 

O O M E carles a' of fumbler's ha', 
And I will tell you of your fate, 
Since we have married wives that's bra, 

And canna pleafe them when 'tis late; 
A pint we'll tak our hearts to chear; 

What fau'ts we hae our wives can tell; 
Gar bring us in baith ale and beer. 

The auldefl bairn we hae's ourfell. 

Chrifl'ning of weans we are redd of, 
The parifh priefl this he can tell; 

We aw him nought but a grey groat. 
The oflf'ring for the houfe we in-dwell. 



SCOTS SONGS. 47 

Our baims's tocher is a' paid, 

We're mailers of the gear ourfell; 
Let either well or wae betide, 

Here's a health to a' the wives that's yell. 

Our nibour's auld fon and the lafs, 

Into the bam amang the flrae, 
He gripped her in the dark beguefs, 

And after that came meikle wae. 
Repentance ay comes afterhin', 

It cofl the carle baith com and hay; 
We're quat of that wi' little din, 

Sick croffes haunt ne'er you nor I. 

Now merry, merry may we be, 

When we think on our neighbour R o b i e, 
The way the carle does, we fee, 

Wi' his auld fon and doughter Maggie; 
Boots he maun hae, piflols, what not ? 

The huffy maun hae corkit fhoon : 
We are nae fae; gar fill the pot. 

We'll drink to a' the hours at e'en. 

Here's health to John Mackay well drink, 

To HuGHiE, Andrew, Bob, and Tam; 
WeTl fit and drink, we'll nod and wink, 

It is o'er foon for us to gang. 
Foul fa' the cock, he'as fpilt the play. 

And I do trow he's but a fool, 
We'll fit a while, 'tis lang to day. 

For a' the cocks they rave at Yool. 

Since we have met, we'll merry be, 
The foremofl hame Ihall bear the mell: 



^ 



48 SCOTS SONGS 

111 fet me down, left I be fee 

For fear that I fhould bear't mjrfell. 

And I, quoth Rob, and down lat he, 
The gear fhall never me outride; 

But we'll take a foup of the barley brie, 
And drink to our ain yell fire-fide. 



Green grows the Rafhes. 

Peggy. 

"IVT Y J o c K Y blyth, for what thou'ft done. 

There is nae help nor mending; 
For thou haft jog'd me out of tune, 

For a' thy fair pretending. 
My mither fees a change on me, 

For my complexion dafties, 
And this, alas ! has been with thee 

Sae late amang the rafties. 

JOCKY. 

My Peggy, what Tve faid I'll do, 

To free thee from her fcouling; 
Come then and let us buckle to, 

Nae langer let's be fooling; 
For her content I'll inftant wed, 

Since thy complexion dafties; 
And then we'll try a feather-bed, 

Tis lafter than the raflies. 



SCOTS SONGS. 49 

Peggy. 

Then, J o c k y, fince thy lovers fo true, 

Let mither fcoul, I'm eafy : 
Sae lang's I Hve I ne'er Khali nie 

For what IVe done to pleafe thee. 
And there's my hand I's near complain ; 

Oh ! welFs me on the rafhes : 
Whene'er thou likes I'll do't again, 

And a fig for a' their clalhes. 



Gaberlunzie Man. 

'X' H E pawkie auld carl came o'er the lee, 
Wi' mony good e'ens and days to me, 
Saying, Goodwife, for your courtefie, 

Will you lodge a filly poor man? 
The night was cauld, the carl was wat, 
And down ayont the ingle he fat; 
My doughter's (houlders he 'gan to clap, 

And cadgily ranted and fang. 

O wow ! quo' he, were I as free. 
As firll when I faw this country. 
How blyth and merry wad I be ! 

And I wad never think lang. 
He grew canty, and (he grew fain; 
But little did her auld minny ken 
What thir flee twa together were fa/ng, 

When wooing they were fae thrang. 
Vol. II. (4) E 



50 SCOTS SONGS. 

And O ! quo' he, an ye were as black 
As e*er the crown of my dady's hat, 
'Tis I wad lay thee by my back. 

And awa wi* me thou fhou*d gang. 
And O ! quo' fhe, an I were as white, 
As e'er the fnaw lay on the dike, 
I'd dead me braw and lady like. 

And awa' wi' thee I would gang. 

Between the twa was made a plot; 
They raife a wee before the cock, 
And wilily they (hot the lock, 

And fafl to the bent are they gane. 
Up in the mom the auld wife raife. 
And at her leifure pat on the claife; 
Syne to the fervant's bed Ihe gaes. 

To fpeer for the filly poor man. 

She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay, 
The llray was cauld, he was away, 
She clapt her hand, cr/d, Waladay! 

For fome of our geer will be gane. 
Some ran to colfers, and fome to kifls. 
But nought was llown that cou'd be mifl; 
She danc'd her lane, cry'd, Praife be blefl! 

I have lodg'd a leal poor man. 

Since naething's awa, as we can learn, 

The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn, 

Gae butt the houfe, lafs, and waken my bairn, 

And bid her come quickly ben. 
The fervant gade where the doughter lay, 
The flieets was cauld, fhe was away, 
And/afl to her good wife 'gan fay. 

She's aff wi' L^e gaberlunzie man. 



SCOTS SONGS. 51 

O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, 

And hafle ye find thefe traytors again j 

For (he's be burnt, and he's be flain, 

The wearifii' gaberlunzie-man. 
Some rade upo* horfe, fome ran a fit, 
The wife was wood, and out o* her wit : 
She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd fhe fit, 

But ay fhe cxurs'd and (he ban'd. 

Mean time far hind out o'er the lee, 
Fu' fnug in a glen, where nane cou'd fee, 
The twa with kindly fport and glee. 

Cut frae a new cheefe a whang : 
The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith, 
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. 
Quo' (he, To leave thee I will be laith, 

My winfome gaberlunzie-man. 

O kend my minny I were wi' you, 
lU-fardly wad (he crook her mou'. 
Sick a poor man (he'd never trow. 

After the gaberlunzie-man. 
My dear, quo' he, ye're yet o*er young, 
And ha' nae leam'd the beggars tongue, 
To follow me from town to town, 

And carry the gaberlunzie on. 

Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread, 

And fpindles and whorles for them wha need, 

Whilk is a gentle trade indeed, 

To carry the gaberlunzie on. 
Ill bow my leg, and crook my knee, 
And draw a black clout o'er my eye, 
A cripple or blind they will ca' me, 

While we (hall be merry and fing. 

E 2 



52 SCOTS SONGS 

Glancing of her Apron. 

T N January lafl, 

On Munanday at mom, 
As through the fields I pafl, 

To view the winter com, 
I looked me behind, 

And faw come o'er the know. 
And glancing in her apron, 

With a bonny brent brow. 

I faid. Good-morrow, fair maid, 

And Ihe right courteoufly 
Retum'd a beck, and kindly faid. 

Good-day, fweet Sir, to you. 
I fpeir'd, my dear, how far awa 

Do ye intend to gae? 
Quoth Ihe, I mean a mile or twa 

Out o'er yon broomy brae. 

H £. 

Fair maid, I'm thankfu' to my fate. 

To have fick company; 
For I'm ganging llraight that gate, 

Where ye intend to be. 
When we had gane a mile or twain, 

I faid to her, my dow, 
May we not lean us on this plain^ 

And kifs your bonny mou'. 

SHE. 

Kind Sir, ye are a wi miflane; 
For I am nane of thefe, 



SCOTS SONGS. S3 

I hope you feme mair breeding ken, 

Than to ruffle womens claife : 
For may be I have chofen ane, 

And plighted him my vow, 
Wha may do wi' me what he likes, 

And kifs my bonny mou*. 

H E. 

Na, if ye are contradled, 

I hae nae mair to lay : 
Rather than be rejedled, 

I will gie o'er the play; 
And chufe anither will refpedl 

My love, and on me rew; 
And let me clafp her round the neck, 

And kifs her bonny mou\ 

SHE. 

Sir, ye are proud-hearted, 

And. laith to be faid nay, 
Elfe ye wad ne'er a llarted 

For ought that I did fay; 
For women in their modefly, 

At firfl they winna bow; 
But if we like your company. 

We'll prove as kind as you. 



^'3 



54 SCOTS SONGS. 

Gypfie Laddie * 

'T' H E gypfies came to our good lord's gate, 

And wow but they fang fweetly; 
They fang fae fweet, and fae very complete, 
That down came the fair lady. 

Aud fhe came tripping down the (lair. 

And a' her maids before her; 
As foon as they faw her well-far'd face, 

They cooll the glamer o'er her. 

Gae tak frae me this gay mantile, 

And bring to me a plaidie; 
For if kith and kin and a' had fwom, 

111 follow the gypfie laddie. 

Yeftreen I lay in a weel-made bed, 

And my good lord befide me; 
This night 111 ly in a tenant's bam. 

Whatever fliall betide me. 

* John Faw was chief or king of the gypfies in James IV. 's 
time. James IV. about the year 1595 iffued a proclama- 
tion, ordaining all iheriflfe, &c. to affift John Faw in feizing 
and fecuring fugitive gypfies, and that they Ihould lend him 
their prifons, ftocks, fetters, &c. for that purpofe : charging 
the lieges that none of them molell, vex, unquiet, or trouble 
the faid Faw and his company in doing their lawful bufmefs 
within the realm, and in their paffmg, remaining, or going 
forth of the fame, under penalty: and charging all Ikippers, 
mailers of (hips, and mariners within our realm, at all ports 
and havens to receive faid John and his company upon their 
expences for furthering them furth of the realm to parts be- 
yond fea. 

M'Laurin's Remarkable Cafes, p. 774. 



SCOTS SONGS. S5 

Oh! come to your bed, fays Jonn y F aa, 

Oh! come to your bed, my deary; 
For I vow and fwear by the hilt of my fword, 

That your lord (hall nae mair come near ye. 

Ill go to bed to my J o N N Y F A A, 

And I'll go to bed to my dearie ; 
For I vow and fwear by what pafl yeftreen, 

That my lord (hall nae mair come near me. 

ril mak a hap to my J o nn y Fa a, 

And I'll make a hap to my dearie j 
And he's get a' the coat gaes round, 

And my lord (hall nae mair come near me. 

And when oiu* lord came hame at e'en, 

And fpeir'd for his fair lady, 
The tane (he cr/d, and the other reply'd, 

She's awa wi' the gypfie laddie. 

Gae laddie to me the black, black (leed, 

Gae faddle and mak him ready; 
Before that I either eat or fleep, 

111 gae feek my fair lady. 

And we were fifteen well made men, 

Altho' we were nae bonny; 
And we were a' put down but ane, 

For a fair young wanton lady. 

Hey J E N N Y come down to J O C K. 

JO C K Y he came here to woo 
On ae feafl-day when we were fu'; 
And Jenny pat on her bell array, 
When (he heard J o c k y was come that way. 



S6 SCOTS SONGS. 

J E N N Y Ihe gaed up the flair, 

Sae privily to change her fmock; 
And ay fae loud as her mither did rair, 

Hey, Jenny, come down to J o c k. 

J E N N Y (he came down the llair, 

And fhe came bobbin and bakin ben; 

Her llays they were lac'd, and her waifl it was jimp^ 
And a bra* new-made manco gown. 

J o c K Y took her be the hand, 

O J E N N Y, can ye fancy me? 
My father is dead, and he 'as left me fome land. 

And bra' houfes twa or three; 

And I will gie them dJ to thee. 

A haith, quo' Jenny, I fear you mock. 
Then foul fa' me gin I fcom thee ; 

If ye'U be my J E N N Y, I'll be your Jock. 

Jenny lookit, and fyne Ihe leugh, 
Ye firfl maun get my mither's confent 

A weel, goodwife, and what fay ye ? 
Quo' (he, Jock, I'm weel content 

J E n N Y to her mither did fay, 

O mither, fetch us fome good meat; 
A piece of the butter was kirn'd the day, 

That J o c K Y and I thegither may eat 

J o c K Y imto Jenny did fay, 

Jenny, my dear, I want nae meat; 
It was nae for meat that I came here. 

But a' for the love of you, Jenny, my dear. 

Then J o c k y and Jenny were led to their bed. 
And J o c K y he lay neift the flock ; 



SCOT5 SONGS. 57 

And five or fix times ere break of day, 
He afk*d at J e n n y how (he lik'd Jock. 

Quo' Jenny, dear Jock, you gie me content, 

I blefs my mither for gieing confent: 
And on the next morning before the firft cock, 

Our Jenny did cry, I dearly love Jock. 

Jenny (he gaed up the gait, 
Wi* a green gown as fide as her fmock; 

And ay lae loud as her mither did rair, 
Vow firs ! has nae J e n n y got J o c k. 



Jeany, where haft thou been. 

r\ Jean Y, Jeany, where hall thou been? 

Father and mother are feeking of thee. 
Ye have been ranting, playing the wanton. 

Keeping of J o c k y company. 
B E T T Y, I^ve been to hear the mill clack. 

Getting meal ground for the family y 
Asfow as itgade, I hrang hame thefack. 

For the miller has taken nae mowterfrae me. 

Ha! Jeany, Jeany, there's meal on your back. 

The miller's a wanton billy, and flee, 
The' vi6hiars come hame again hale, whatreck, 

I fear he has taken his mowter aff thee. 
Andy Betty, ye fpread your linen to bleach ^ 

When that was done, where cou'd you bel 
Ha! lafs, If aw ye flip down by the hedge. 

And wanton Willy was following thee. 



58 SCOTS SONGS. 

Ay, Jeany, Jeany, ye gade to the kirk; 

But when it (kaiUd, where cou'd thou be? 
Ye came nae hame till it was mirk, . 

They fay the kifling clerk came wi' ye. 
O filly laffie, what wilt thou do? 

If thou grow great, they'll heez thee high : 
Look toyourfell^ if] ock prove true, 

The clerk frae creepies will keep me free. 



Jenny dang the weaver. 

r\ M I T H E R dear, I 'gin to fear, 

Tho' I'm baith good and bonny, 
I winna keep; for in my fleep, 

I flart and dream of J o h n y. 
When J o H N Y then comes down the glen, 

To woo me, dinna hinder; 
But with content gi' your confent, 

For we twa ne'er can finder. 

Better to marry, than mifcarry; 

For Ihame and Ikaith's the clink o't; 
To thole the dool, to mount the llool, 

I downa bide to think o't; 
Sae while 'tis time, I'll fliun the crime. 

That gars poor E p p s gae whinging, 
With haunches fow, and een lae blew. 

To all the bedrals bingeing. 

Had Eppy's apron bidden down. 
The kirk had ne'er a kend it; 



SCOTS SONGS. 59 

But when the word's gane thro' the town, 

Alake how can Ihe mend it! 
Now Tam maun face the minifter, 

And fhe maun mount the pillar : 
And that's the way that they maun gae, 

For poor folk hae nae filler. 

Now had ye'r tongue, my doughter young, 

Replied the kindly mither, 
Get J o H N y' s hand in haly band. 

Syne wap your wealth togither. 
Vm o' the mind^ if he be kind, 

Ye'll do your part difcreetly; 
And prove a wife, will gar his life. 

And barrel run right fweetly. 



J O C K Y fou, J E N N Y fain. 

JO c K Y fou, Jenny fain, 
Jenny was nae ill to gain, 
She was couthy, he was kind, 
And thus the wooer tell'd his mind : 

Jenny, I'll nae mair be nice, 
Gi'e me love at ony price, 
I winna prig for red or whjrt, 
Love alane can gi'e delyt. 

Others feek they kenny what, 
In looks, in, carriage, and a' that; 
Give me love for her I court : 
Love in love makes a' the fport. 



6o SCOTS SONGS. 

Colours mingled unco fine, 
Common motives lang finfyne, 
Never can engage my love, 
Until my fancy firfl approve. 

It is na meat, but appetite 
That makes our eating a delyt; 
Beauty is at befl deceit; 
Fancy only kens nae cheat. 



Jenny Nettles. 

C AW ye Jenny Nettles, 

JennyNettles, Jenny Nettles, 
Saw ye JennyNettles, 

Coming frae the market; 
Bag and baggage on her back, 

Her fee and bountith in her lap; 
Bag and baggage on her back, 

And a babie in her oxter. 

I met ayont the kaimey, 

JennyNettles, JennyNettles, 
Singing till her baimy, 

Robin Rattle's baflard; 
To flee the dool, upo' the llool, 

And ilka ane that mocks her, 
She round about, feeks Robin out, 

To flap it in his oxter. 

Fy, fy! Robin Rattle, 
RobinRattle, RobinRattle; 



SCOTS SONGS. 6i 

Fy, fy! Robin Rattle, 

Ufe JennyNettles kindly; 
Score out the blame, and fhun the ihame, . 

And without mair debate o't, 
Tak hame your wain, make Jenny fain, 

The leel and leefome gate o't 



John Ochiltree. 

"LTOnes t man John Ochiltree; 

Mine ain auld JohnOchiltree, 
Wilt thou come o'er the moor to me, 

And dance as thou was wont to do? 
Alake, alake, I wont to do ! 

Ohon, ohon ! I wont to do ! 
Now won't-to-do's awa' frae me, 

Frae filly auld John Ochiltree. 
Honefl man, JohnOchiltree, 

Mine ain auld JohnOchiltree: 
Come anes out o'er the moor to me. 

And do what thou dow to do. 
Alake, alake ! I dow to do ! 

Walaways ! I dow to do ! 
To whofl and hirple o'er my tree, 

My bonny moor-powt, is a' I may do. 

Walaways ! JohnOchiltree, 
For many a time I tell'd to thee. 

Thou rade fae fad by fea and land; 
And wadna keep a bridle hand; 
Vol. 11. F 



62 SCOTS SONGS. 

Thou'd tine the beail, thyfell wad die, 

My filly auld JohnOchiltree. 
Come to my arms, my bonny thing, 

And chear me up to hear thee fing; 
And tell me o'er a' we hae done, 

For thoughts maun now my life fiillain. 
Gae thy ways, John Ochiltree: 

Hae done ! it has nae fae wi' me. 
I'll fet the beall in throw the land, 

She'll may be fa' in a better hand; 
Even fit thou there, and drink thy fill, 

For I'll do as I wont to do flilL 



Kirk wad let me be. 

T W A s anes a weel-tocher'd lafs. 
My mither left dollars to me; 
But now I'm brought to a poor pafs, 

My flepdame has gart them flee. 
My father is aften firae hame. 

And flie plays the deel with his gear; 
She neither has lawtith nor (hame. 

And keeps the hale houfe in a lleer. 

She's barmy-fac'd, thriftlefs and bauld, 

And gars me aft fret and repine ; 
While hungry, ha'f-naked and cauld, 

I fee her deftroy what is mine : 
But foon I might hope a revenge, 

And foon of my forrows be free. 
My poortith to plenty wad change, 

If flie were hung up on a tree. 



SCOTS SONGS. 63 

Quoth R I N G A N, wha lang time had loo'd 

This bonny lafs tenderly, 
111 tack thee, fweet M a y, in thy fhood, 

Gif thou wilt gae hame with me. 
Tis only yourfell that I want, 

Your kindnefs is better to me 
Than a' that your flepmother, fcant 

Of grace, now has taken fhie thee. 

I'm but a young farmer, its true, 

And ye are the fprout of a laird; 
But I have milk-cattle enow, 

And routh of good rucks in my yard; 
Ye ftiall have naithing to fafli ye. 

Sax fervants (hall jouk to thee: 
Then kilt up thy coats, my laffie. 

And gae thy ways hame with me. 

The maiden her reafon employed, 

Not thinking the offer amifs, 
Confented, — while R i n g a n o'eijo/d, 

Received her with mony a kifs. 
And now (he (its blyth (ingan. 

And joking her drunken (lepdame, 
Delighted with her dear R i n g a n , 

That makes her goodwife at hame. 



Tune, Lajl Time I came o'er the Muir. 

Y E bl3rthe(l lads, and la(res gay, 
Hear what my fang difclofes : 
As I ae morning (leeping lay, 
Upon a bank of rofes, 

F 2 



64 SCOTS SONGS. 

Young Jamie whifking o'er the mead, 
By good luck chanc'd to fpy me; 

He took his bonnet afF his head, 
And faftly lat down by me. 

Jamie tho' I right meikle priz'd, 

Yet now I wadna ken him; 
But with a frown my face difguis'd, 

And llrave away to fend him. 
But fondly he flill nearer prefl, 

And by my fid^ down lying, 
His beating heart thumped lae fail, 

I thought the lad was d3dng. 

But flill refolving to deny. 

An angry paffion feigning, 
I aften roughly (hot him by, 

With words full of difdaining. 
Poor Jamie bawk*d, nae favour wins, 

Went aff much difcontented; 
But I, in truth, for a' my fms 

Ne'er hafF fae fair repented. 



Low down in the Broom. 

"\TY daddy is a canker'd carle, 
He'll nae twin wi' his gear; 
My minny (he's a fcalding wife, 
Hads a' the houfe a-fleer : 
But let them fay ^ or let them do^ 

Ifs a! ane to me; 
For h^s low doivn^ his in the broom^ 
Thafs waiting on me: 



SCOTS SONGS. 65 

Waiting on me^ my lave, 

H£s waiting on me; 
For his low down, his in the hroom^ 
Thafs waiting on me. 

My aunty K a t e fits at her wheel, 

And fair flie lightlies me; 
But weel ken I it's a' envy, 

For ne'er a jo has flie. 
But let theniy &c. 

My coufin Kate was lair beguil'd 

Wi' J o H N Y i' the glen; 
And ay finfyne (he cries. Beware 

Of falfe deluding men. 
But let them, &c. 

Gleed S a n d y he came wefl ae night, 

And fpier^d when I faw P a t e> 
And ay finfyne the neighbours round 

They jeer me air and late. 
But let them, &c 

Now J E N N Yjhis gane down the hroom. 

And ifs to meet wi Pate; 
But what they said, or what th^ did, 

'Tis needlefs to repeat: 

But theyfeen^d hlyth and weel conterd 

Sae merry mat they be; 
For a conjlant fwain has P at i ^ proved. 

And nae lefs kind wasjhe, 

Yiave waited on me, my love, 
Yiave waited on me, 

(5) F 3 



66 SCOTS SONGS 

Yiceve waited lang amang the broom, 
Now I am hound to thee: 

Sae-let them fay, or let them do, 

*Tts a* ane to me; 
For I have vo7i/d to love you, lad, 

Until the day I die. 



Lafs wi' a Lump of Land. 

/^ I'E me a lafs wi' a lump of land, 

And we for life ihall gang the gither, 
Tho' daft ot wife, I'll- never demand, 

Or black, or fair, it makfefna whether. 
I'm aff wi* wit, and beauty will fade, 

And blood alane is no worth a shilling, 
But fhe that's rich, her market's made. 

For ilka charm about her is killing. 

Gi'e me a lafs wi' a lump of land. 

And in my bofom I'll hug my treafure; 
Gin I had ance her gear in my hand. 

Should love turn dowf, it will find pleafure. 
Laugh on wha likes, but there's my hand, 

I hate with poortith, tho' bonny, to meddl^ 
Unlefs they bring cafh, or a lump of land, 

Theyfe ne'er get me to dance to their fiddle. 

There's meikle good love in bands and bags, 
And filler and gowd's a fweet comple<Sion; 

For beauty, and wit, and virtue in rags, 
Have tint the art of gaining afiedlion: 



SCOTS SONGS. 67 

Love tips his arrows with woods and parks, 
And caflles, and riggs, and muirs, and meadows, 

And naething can catch our modem fparks 
But well-tocher'd laifes, or jointur'd-widows. 



My Jo J A N E T. 

C W E E T Sir, for your courtefie, 

When ye come by the Bafs then, 
For the love ye bear to me, 

Buy me a keeking-glafs then. 
Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet; 
And there ye'll fee your bonny fell, my jo J a n e t. 

Keeking in the draw-well clear, 

What if I ihou'd fa' in, 
Syne a' my kin will lay and fwear, 

I drown'd myfell for fin. 
Had the better be the brae, Janet, Janet; 
Had the better be the brae, my jo J a n e t. 

Good Sir, for your courtefie. 

Coming through Aberdeen then. 
For the love ye bear to me. 

Buy me a pair of (boon then. 
Clout the auld, the new are dear, Janet, Janet; 
Ae pair may gain ye ha'f a year, my jo J a N e t. 

But what if dancing on the green. 

And (kipping like a mawking, 
If they (hould fee my clouted flioon, 

Of me they will be tanking. 



i 
% 



68 SCOTS SONGS. 

Dance ay laigh, and late at een, Janet, Janet. 
Syne a' their faults will no be feen, my jo J a n e T. 

Kind Sir, for yoiu: courtefie, 

When ye gae to the crofs then, 
For the love ye bear to me, 

Buy me a pacing-horfe then. 
Pace upo' your fpinning-wheel, Janet, Janet, 
Pace upo* your fpinning-wheel, my jo J a n e t. 

My fpinning-wheel is auld and stiff. 

The rock o't winna Hand, Sir, 
To keep the temper-pin in tiff. 

Employs aft my hand, Sir. 
Mak the befl o't that ye can, Janet, Janet; 
But like it never wale a man, my jo J a n E t. 



My Daddy forbade, my Minny forbade. 

TTTH E N I think on my lad, I figh and am fad, 

For now he is far frae me. 
My daddy was harfh, my minny was warfe, 

That gart him gae yont the fea. 
Without an ellate, that made him look blate; 

And yet a brave lad is he. 
Gin fafe he come hame, in fpite of my dame. 

He'll ever be welcome to me. 

Love fpeirs nae advice of parents o*er wife, 

That have but ae bairn like me, 
That looks upon cafh, as naething but tra(h, 

That fhackles what fhou'd be free. 



SCOTS SONGS. 69 

And though my dear lad not ae penny had, 

Since qualities better has he; 
Abeit Vm an heirefs, I think it but fair is, 

To love him, fince he loves me. 

Then, my dear Jamie, to thy kind J £ a k i e, 

Hafle, haile thee in o'er the fea, 
To her wha can find nae eafe in her mind, 

Without a blyth fight of thee. 
Though my daddy forbade, and my minny forbade, 

Forbidden I will not be; 
For fince thou alone my favour hall won, 

Nane elfe Ihall e'er get it for me. 

Yet them Fll not grieve, or without their leave, 

Gi'e my hand as a wife to thee ; 
Be content with a heart that can never defert, 

Till they ceafe to oppofe or be. 
My parents may prove yet fiiends to our love, 

When our firm refolves they fee; 
Then I with pleafure will yield up my treafure. 

And a' that love orders, to thee. 



The Maltman. 

'X* H E maltman comes on Munanday, 

He craves wonderous fair. 
Cries, dame, come gi'e me my filler, 

Or malt ye'U ne'er get mair. 
I took him into the pantry, 

And gave him fome good cock-broo. 



70 SCOTS SONGS 

S)me paid him upon a gantree, 
As hofller wives fliould do. 

When mailmen come for filler, 

And gangers wi' wands o'er foon, 
Wives, tak them a* down to the cellar. 

And clear them as I have done. 
This bewith, when cunzie is fcanty, 

Will keep them frae making din. 
The knack I leam'd frae an auld aunty, 

The Ihackefl of a' my kin. 

The maltman is right cunning, 

But I can be as flee. 
And he may crack of his winning. 

When he clears fcores ^dth me : 
For come when he likes, I'm ready; 

But if frae hame I be. 
Let him wait on our kind lady, 

She'll anfwer a bill for me. 



The Miller. 

TVT E R R Y may the maid be 
That marries the miller, 
For foul day and fair day 

He's ay bringing till her; 
Has ay a penny in his purfe 

For dinner and for fupper; 
And gin flie pleafe, a good fat cheefe, 

And lumps of yellow butter. 



SCOTS SONGS. n 

When Jamie firfl did woo me, 

I fpeir'd what was his calling; 
Fair maid, fays he, O come and fee, 

Ye're welcome to my dwelling : 
Though I was ihy, yet I cou'd fpy 

The truth of what he told me, 
And that his houfe was warm and couth, 

And room in it to hold me. 

Behind the door a bag of meal. 

And in the kill was plenty 
Of good hard cakes his mither bakes, 

And bannocks were na fcanty; 
A good fat fow, a fleeky cow 

Was flandin in the byre; 
Whilfl lazy poufs with mealy moufe 

Was playing at the fire. 

Good ligns are thefe, my mither fays, 

And bids me tak the miller; 
For foul day and fair day 

He's ay bringing till her; 
For meal and malt fhe does na want. 

Nor ony thing that's dainty; 
And now and then a keckling hen 

To lay her eggs in plenty. 

In winter when the wind and rain 

Blows o'er the houfe and byre, 
He fits befide a clean hearth flane 

Before a roufing fire; 
With nut-brown ale he tells his tale. 

Which rows him o'er fou nappy: 
Who'd be a king-— a petty thing. 

When a miller lives so happy? 



72 SCOTS SONGS. 



Maggy Lauder. 

"ITTHA wad na be in love 

Wi* bonny Maggie Lauder? 
A piper met her gaun to Fife, 

And fpeir'd what was't they ca'd her; 
Right fcomfully flie anfwer'd him, 

Begone, you hallanfhaker. 
Jog on yoiu: gate, you bladderlkate, 

My name is Maggie Lauder. 

Maggie, quoth he, and by my bags, 

I'm fidging fain to fee thee; 
Sit down by me, my bonny bird, 

In troth I winna fleer thee; 
For I'm a piper to my trade, 

My name is R o b the Ranter, 
The laffes loup as they were daft. 

When I blaw up my chanter. 

Kper, quoth Meg, hae you your bags, 

Or is your drone in order? 
If you be R o B, IVe heard of you, 

Live you upo' the border? 
The laffes a*, baith far and near. 

Have heard of R o b the Ranter; 
111 fhake my foot wi' right goodwill, 

Gif you'll blaw up your chanter. 

Then to his bags he flew wi' fpeed. 

About the drone he twifled; 
M E g up and wallop'd o'er the green, 

For brawly could fhe frifk it 



SCO'rS SONGS. 73 

Weel done, quoth he, play up, quoth (he, 

Weel bob'd, quoth R o b the Ranter, 
'Tis worth my while to play indeed, 

When I hae Hck a dancer. 

Weel hae ye pla/d your part, quoth M s o, 

Your cheeks are like the crimfon; 
There's nane in Scotland plays fae weel. 

Since we lofl Habby Simpson. 
Fve hv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife, 

Thefe ten years and a quarter; 
Gin you ftiould come to Enller fair, 

Speirye forMAOoiE Lauder. 



Muirland WILLI E. 

IJ A RKEN and I will tell you how 

Young muirland Willie came to woo, 

Tho' he cou'd neither lay nor do 3 
The truth I tell to you. 

But ay he cries, Whatever betide, 

Maggy Tfe hae her to be my bride, 
With afaly dal, &c. 

On his grey yade as he did ride, 
Wi' durk and piflol by his fide, 
He prick'd her on wi' meikle pride, 

Wi' meikle mirth and glee, 
Out o'er yon mofs, out o*er yon muir. 
Till he came to her dad/s door. 
With a fal, dal, &c. 
Vol. XL G 



74 SCOTS SONGS. 

Goodman, quoth he, be ye within, 
I'm come your doughter's love to win, 
I carena for making meikle din; 

What anfwer gi' ye me? 
Now, wooer, quoth he, wou'd ye light down, 
111 gie ye my doughtei^s love to win, 
With afcUy daly &c. 

Now, wooer, fin' ye are lighted down, 
Where do ye won, or in what town? 
I think my doughter winna gloom, 

On fick a lad as ye. 
The wooer he flepped up the houfe, 
And wow but he was wondrous croufe. 
With afaly dal, &c. 

I have three owfen in a pleugh, 
Twa gude ga'en yades, and gear enough, 
The place they ca' it Cadeneugh; 

I fcom to tell a lie : 
Befides, I hae frae the great laird, 
A peat-pat, and a lang kail-yard. 
With afal, dal, &c. 

The maid put on her kirtle brown, 
She was the brawefl in a' the town; 
I wat on him flie did na gloom. 

But blinket bonnilie. 
The lover he flended up in hafle, 
And gript her hard about the wafle. 
With afaly dal, &c 

To win your love, maid, I'm come here, 
I'm young, and hae enough o' gear; 



SCOTS SONGS. 75 

And for layiell ye need na fear, 

Troth try me whan you like. 
He took afF his bonnet, and fpat in his chow, 
He dighted his gab, and he prie'd her mou', 
WM a/a/, dal, &c. 

The maiden blufli'd and bing'd fu law, 
She had na will to fay him na, 
But to her daddy flie left it a', 

As they twa cou'd agree. 
The lover he ga*e her the tither kifs. 
Syne ran to her daddy, and tell'd him this. 
With afal, dal, &c. 

Your doughter wad na fay me na, 
But to yourfell flie'as left it a'. 
As we cou'd 'gree between us twa; 

Say, what' 11 ye gie me wi' her? 
Now, wooer, quo' he, I hae na meikle. 
But lick's I hae, ye's get a pickle. 
With afal, dal, &c. 

A kilnfu' of com I'll gie to thee, 
Three foums of flieep, twa good milk kye, 
Ye's hae the wadding dinner free; 
Troth I dow do nae mair. 
Content, quo' he, a bargain be't, 
I'm far fra hame, mak hafte, let's do't, 
With afal, dal, &c. 

The bridal-day it came to pafs, 
Wi' mony a blythfome lad and lafs; 
But ficken a day there never was. 
Sick mirth was never feen. 

G2 



76 SCOTS SONGS. 

This winfome couple flraked hands, 
Mefs John t/d up the marriage-bands, 
WttA a/a/, da/, &c 

And our bride's maidens were na few, 
Wr tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blew, 
Frae tap to tae they were bra* new, 

And blinkit bonnilie. 
Their t03rs and mutches were fae clean, 
They glanced in our ladfes' een, 
Wi/k a/a/, da/, &c. 

Sick hirdum, dirdum, and fick din, 
W? he o'er her, and flie o'er him; 
The minllrels they did never blin, 
Wi' meikle mirth and glee. 
And ay they bobit, and ay they beck't, 
And ay their wames together met, 
With a /a/, da/, &c. 



Maggie's Tocher. 

np H E meal was dear ihort fyne, 
-*■ We buckled us a' the gither; 
And Maggie was in her prime. 

When Willie made courtfliip till her. 
Twa piflols charged beguefs, 

To gi'e the courting-shot; 
And fyne came ben the lafs, 

Wi' fwats drawn ftae the butt. 



SCOTS SONGS. 77 

He firfl fpeir'd at the guidman, 

And fyne at G i l e s the mither, 
An ye wad gie's a bit land, 

We'd buckle us e'en the gither. 

My doughter ye Ihall hae, 

m gi'e you her by the hand ; 
But m part wi' my wife, by my fay, 

Or I part wi' my land. 
Your tocher it fall be good, 

There's nane fall hae its maik, 
The lafs bound in her fnood. 

And Crummie wha kens her ilaik; 
Wi' an auld bedding o' claiths, 

Was left me by my mither, 
They're jet-black o'er wi' fleas, 

Ye may cuddle in them the gither. 

Ye fpeak right weel, guidman, 

But ye maun mend your hand, 
And think o' modefty, 

Gin you'll not quat your land. 
We are but young, ye ken, 

And now we're gaun the gither, 
A houfe is but and ben, 

And Crummie will want her fother. 
The bairns are coming on. 

And they'll cry, O their mither! 
We'ave nouther pat nor pan, 

But four bare legs the gither* 

Your tocher's be good enough. 
For that you needna fear, 

G3 



78 SCOTS SONGS 

Twa good flilts to the pleugh, 

And ye yourfell maun fleer : 
Ye fall hae twa good pocks 

That ance were o' the tweel, 
The t'ane to ha'd the grots, 

The ither to ha'd the meal : 
Wi' an auld kifl made o' wands, 

And that fall be your coffer, 
Wi' aiken woody bands, 

And that may ha'd your tocher. 

Confider well, guidman, 

We hae but barrow'd gear, 
The horfe that I ride on 

Is Sandy WiLS on's mare; 
The faddle's nane o' my ain. 

And thae's but barrow'd boots. 
And whan that I gae hame, 

I maun tak to my coots; 
The cloak is Geord y Watt's, 

That gars me look fae croufe; 
Come, fill us a cogue of fwats. 

We'll mak nae mair toom roofe. 

I like you weel, young lad. 

For telling me fae plain, 
I married whan little I had 

O' gear that was my ain. 
But fin that things are fae. 

The bride fhe maun come forth, 
Tho' a' the gear fhe'U hae 

Twill be but little worth. 



SCOTS SONGS. 79 

A bargain it maun be, 

Fy ciy on G I L E s the mither; 
Content am I, quo' Ihe, 

E'en gar the hiffie come hither. 

The bride Ihe gade to her bed, 

The bridegroom he cam till her; 
The fidler crap in at the fit, 

And they cuddle'd it a* the gither. 



Scomfu' Nansy. 

'M' A N s A y's to the Green-wood gane, 
To hear the gowdfpink chattering, 
And W I L L I E he has followed her. 

To gain her love by flattering : 
But a' that he cou'd fay or do, 

She geck'd and fcomed at him; 
And ay whan he began to woo. 

She bade him mind wha gat him. 

What ails ye at my dad, quoth he. 

My minny, or my aunty? 
With crowdymoudy they fed me, 

Langkail and rantytanty : 
With bannocks of good barley-meal, 

Of thae there was right plenty. 
With chapped kail buttefd fu' weel; 

And was not that right dainty? 

Altho* my daddy was nae laird, 
(Tis daffin to be vaimty), 



8o SCOTS SONGS. 

He keepit ay a good kail-yard, 

A ha'-houfe, and a pantry; 
A good blue bonnet on his head. 

An overlay 'bout his craigy; 
And ay until the day he died 

He raide on fhanks-naigy. 

Now wae and wonder on your fnout, 

Wad ye hae bonny N an s y? 
Wad ye compare yourfell to me, 

A docken to a tanfy ? 
I hae a wooer o' my ain, 

They ca' him fouple Sandy, 
And weel I wat his bonny mou' 

Is fweet like fugarcandy. 

Wow, N A N s Y, what needs a' this din ? 

Do I not ken this Sandy? 
Tm fure the chief of a' his kin 

Was Rab the beggar randy; 
His minny Meg upo' her back 

Bare baith him and his billy; 
Will ye compare a nafly pack 

To me your winfome Willie? 

My gutcher left a good braid fword, 

Tho' it be auld and rufly. 
Yet ye may tack it on my word, 

It is baith (lout and trufly; 
And if I can but get it drawn, 

Which will be right uneafy, 
I fliall lay baith my lugs in pawn. 

That he (hall get a heezy. 



J 



SCOTS SONGS. 8i 

I km h^s but a coward thief; 

Your Htty B e s s ^d!« tell him. 
How with her rockjhe beat his beef, 

And f wore thatjhe would fell him. 
Then he lay blirHng, like afheep, 

And f aid he was afau'ter; 
Syne unto her did chirm and cheep, 

And ajked pardon at her. 

Then, bonny ^ Ai^^Y^turn to me. 

And fo prevent all evil; 
Let thy proud fpeeches now a' be. 

And prove fomewhat mair civil; 
Bidfouple Sandy get him gone. 

And court his auld coal Maggie, 
^^ a^ his duds outo'er his drone. 

And nought about his cragie. 

Then N a n s y turn'd her round about, 

And faid, Did Sandy hear ye. 
Ye wadna mifs to get a clout; 

I ken he difna fear ye : 
Sae had your tongue and fay nae mair, 

Set fomewhere elfe your fancy; 
For as lang's S a n d y's to the fore, 

Ye never (hall get N" a n s y. 



Slighted Nansy. 

^^ I S I have fev'ri braw new gowns, 
And ither fev'n better to mak, 
And yet for a' my new gowns. 
My wooer has turned his back. 

(6) 



82 SCOTS SONGS 

Befides I hae feven milk-ky, 
And S A N D Y he has but three; 

And yet for a* my good ky 
The laddie winna hae me. 

My daddy's a delver o' dykes, 

My mither can card and fpin, 
And I'm a fine fudgel lafs, 

And the filler comes linkin in; 
The filler comes linkin in, 

And it's fu' fair to fee, 
And fifty times wow, O wow! 

What ails the lads at me? 

Whenever our bawty does bark, 

Then fafl to the door I rin. 
To fee gin ony young fpark 

Will I'ght and venture but in : 
But never a ane will come in, 

Tho' mony a ane gaes by, 
Syne far ben the houfe I rin, 

And a weary wight am I. 

When I was at my firfi. prayers, 

I pray'd but ance in the year; 
I wifh'd for a handfome young lad. 

And a lad wi' muckle gear. 
When I was at my neifl prayers, 

I pray'd but now and than ; 
I falh'd na' my head about gear, 

If I gat but a handfome young man. 

But now when I'm at my lad prayers, 
I pray on baith night and day, 



SCOTS SONGS. 83 

And O ! if a beggar wad come, 

With that fame beggar I'd gae. 
And O I what will come o' me 1 

And O I and what'll I do? 
That iick a braw laflie as I 

Shou'd die for a wooer I trow. 



Norland J O C K Y. 

A Southland Jenny, that was right bonny, 

Had for a fuiter a Norland J o h n y: 
But he was ficken a bafhful wooer, 
That he cou'd fcarcely fpeak unto her; 
Till blinks o' her beauty, and hopes o' her filler, 
Forced him at lafl to tell his mind till her. 
My dear, quoth he, we'll nae langer tarry. 
Gin ye can loo me, let's o'er the muir and marry. 

SHE. 

Come, come awa' then, my Norland laddie, 
Tho' we gang neatly, fome are mair gawdy; 
And albeit I have neither gowd nor money. 
Come, and I'll ware my beauty on thee. 

HE. 

Ye laffes o' the fouth, ye're a' for drefling; 
Laffes o' the north mind milking and threfhing; 
My minny wad be angry, and fae wad my dady. 
Should I marry ane as dink as a lady; 
For I maun hae a wife that will rife i' the morning, 
Crudle a' the milk, and keep the houfe a' fcolding, 



84 SCOTS SONGS. 

Toolie wi* her nei'bours, and learn at my minny. 
A Norland J o c K y maun hae a Norland Jenny. 

SHE. 

My father's only daughter, and twenty thoufand pound, 
Shall never be beflow'd on fie a filly clown: 
For a' that I faid was to try what was in ye. 
Gae hame, ye Norland Jock, and court yoiu: Norland 
Jenny. 



0*er the Muir to MAGGIE. 

AND rU o'er the muir to Maggie, 

Her wit and fweetnefs call me, 
Then to my fair I'll (how my mind. 

Whatever may befal me. 
If (he love mirth, 1*11 learn to fing; 

Or like the Nine to follow, 
I'll lay my lugs in P i n d u s' fpring, 
And invocate Apollo. 

If (he admire a martial mind, 

I'll (heath my limbs in armour; 
If to the fofter dance inclin'd, 

With gayeft airs I'll charm her; 
If (he love grandeur, day and night, 

I'll plot my nation's glory, 
Find favour in my prince's fight. 

And (hine in future (lory. 

Beauty can wonders work with eafe. 
Where wit is correfponding; 



SCOTS SONGS. 85 

And bravell men know befl to pleafe, 

With complaifance abounding. 
My bonny Maggie's love can turn 

Me to what Ihape (he pleafes, 
If in her bread that flame (hall bum, 

Which in my bofom bleezes. 



O'er the Hills and far away. 

JO c K Y met with Jenny fair, 
Aft by the dawning of the day; 

But J o c K Y now is fu' of care. 

Since Jenny (law his heart away : 

Altho' (he promised to be true. 

She proven has, alake! unkind; 

^Vhich gars poor J o c k y aften rue. 

That e'er he loo'd a fickle mind. 

And ifs der the hills and far away, 
Ifs der the hills and far away, 
Ifs der the hills and far away, 
The wind has blawn my f laid away. 

Now J o c K Y was a bonny lad 
As e'er was bom in Scotland fair; 
But now, poor man, he's e'en gane wood. 
Since Jenny has gart him defpair. 
Young J o c K Y was a piper's fon, 
And fell in love when he was young, 
But a' the fprings that he cou'd play 
Was, O'er the hills and far away. 
And ifs der the hills, &c. 
Vol. II. H 



86 SCOTS SONGS. 

He fung, ^When firfl my J e n n y's face 

I faw, (he feem'd fae fu' of grace, 
With meikle joy my heart was fiird, 
That's now, alas ! with forrow kiird. 
Oh ! was (he but as true as fair, 
'Twad put an end to my defpair. 
Indead of that, (he is imkind. 
And wavers like the winter wind. 
And ifs der the hills, &c. 

Ah ! cou'd (he find the difmal wae. 
That for her fake I undergae, 
She coud'na chufe but grant relief. 
And put an end to a' my grief: 
But, oh ! fhe is as faufe as fair, 
Which caufes a' my fighs and care; 
And (he triumphs in proud difdain, 
And takes a pleafure in my pain. 
And ifs oW the hills, &c. 

Hard was my hap, to fa* in love. 
With ane that does fo faithlefs prove ! 
Hard was my fate, to court a maid. 
That has my condant heart betray'd ! 
A thoufand times to me (he fware, 
She wad be true for evermair; 
But to my grief, alake ! I fay, 
She (law my heart, and ran away. 
And it's der the hills, &c. 

Since that (he will nae pity take, 
I maun gae wander for her fake. 
And, in ilk wood and gloomy grove, 
I'll fighing fmg. Adieu to love. 



SCOTS SONGS. 87 

Since (he is faufe whom I adore, 
ril never truft a woman more : 
Frae a' their charms I'll flee away, 
And on my pipe 111 fweetly play, 

Cfer hills and dales and far away^ 

Oer hills and dales and far away. 

O'er hills and dales and far away, 

The wind has blawn my plaid away. 

The Runaway Bride. 

A L A D I £ and a laflie 

Dwelt in the South countrie, 
And they hae caflen their claiths thegither, 

And married they wad be : 
The bridal-day was fet, 

On Tifeday for to be; 
Then hey play up the rinawa' bride, 
For (he has ta'en the gie. 

She had nae run a mile or twa. 

Whan Ihe began to confider, 
The angering of her father dear, 

The difpleafing o' her mither; 
The flighting of the filly bridegroom. 

The weel warfl o' the three; 
Then hey, &c 

Her father and her mither 

Ran after her wi' fpeed. 
And ay they ran until they came 

Unto the water of Tweed; 
And when they came to Kelfo town, 

They gart the clap gae thro', 

H 2 



88 SCOTS SONGS. 

Saw ye a lafs wi' a hood and a mantle, 

The face o*t lin'd up wi' blue; 
The face o't lin'd up wi' blue, 

And the tail lin*d up wi' green, 
Saw ye a lafs wi' a hood and a mantle. 

Was married on Tifeday 'teen ? 

Now wally fu' fa' the filly bridegroom. 

He was as faft as butter; 
For had (he play'd the like to me, 

I had nae fae eafily quit her; 
Fd gi'en her a tune o' my hoboy. 

And fet my fancy free. 
And fyne play'd up the runaway bride, 

And lutten her tak the gie. 

The Country Wedding. 

"D OB's Jock came to wooe our Jennie 
On ae fea(l-day when he was fow; 

She bulked her and made her bonnie 

When fhe heard Jock was come to wooe : 
She bumifh'd her baith bread and brow. 

Made her as clear as ony clock. 
Then fpake our dame, and faid, I trow 

You're come to wooe our Jennie, Jock! 

Ay, dame, fays he, for that I yem 

To lout my head, and fit down by you : 

Then fpake our dame, and faid. My bairn 
Has tocher of her awn to gi' you. 
Tee hee, quoth Jennie, keik, I fee you; 

Minnie, this man makes but a mock. 
Why fay ye fae? now leefe me o' you, 
I come to woo your Jennie, quoth Jock 



mm 



SCOTS SONGS. 89 

My bairn has tocher of her awn, 

Although her friends do nane her lend, 
A (lirk, a llaig, an acre fawn, 

A goofe, a gryce, a clocking hen, 

Twa kits, a cogue, a kirn there ben, 
A keam, but and a keaming-dock, 

Of difhes and ladles nine or ten. 
Come ye to wooe our Jennie, Jock? 

A trough, a trencher, and a tap, 

A taings, a tullie, and a tub, 
A fey-diih and a milking-cap, 

A greap into a grupe to grub, 

A fhode-lhool of a holin club, 
A froath-ftick, can, a creel, a knock, 

A braik for hemp, that (he may rub. 
If ye will marry our Jennie, Jock. 

A furm, a firlot, and a peck, 

A rock, a reel, a gay elwand, 
A (heet, a happer, and a fack, 

A girdle, and a good wheel-band. 

Syne Jock took J e n n i e by the hand, 
And cr/d a banquet, and flew a cock; 

They held the bridal upon land. 
That was between our Jennie and Jock. 

The bride upon her wedding went 

Barefoot upon a hemlock hill ; 
The bride's garter was 0* bent. 

And flie was bom at Kelly-mill. 

The firfl propine he hecht her till. 
He hecht to hit her head a knock. 

She baked and flie held her dill; 
And this gate gat our Jennie, Jock. 

H3 



90 SCOTS SONGS. 

When (he was wedded in his name, 

And unto him (he was made fpoufe, 
They hafled them foon hame again, 

To denner to the bridal-houfe. 

J E N N I E lat jouking like a moufe, 
But Jock was kneef as ony cock; 

Says he to her, Had up your brows. 
And fa* to your meat, my Jennie, quoth Jock. 

What meat (hall we fet them befom, 
To J o c K fervice loud can they cry. 

Serve them with fowce and fodden com. 
Till a' their wyms do (land awry : 

Of fwine's fle(h there was great plenty, 

Whilk was a very pleafant meat; 
And garlick was a fauce right dainty 

To ony man that pleased to eat 

They had fix lavrocks fat and laden. 

With lang-kail, mutton, beef, and brofe, 
A wyme of paunches tough like plaiden. 

With good May butter, milk, and cheefe. 

Jennie (at up even at the meace. 
And a' her friends fat her befide; 

They were a* ferv'd with (hrewd fervice. 
And (ae was feen upon the bride. 

Out at the back-door fad (he (lade, 

And loos*d a buckle wi' fome bends. 
She cackied J o c k for a' his pride. 

And jawed out at baith the ends; 

So (loutly her mother her defends, 
And lays. My bairn's loofe in the dock. 

It comes o' cauld, to make it kend; 
Think nae ill o' your Jennie, Jock. 



SCOTS SONGS. 91 

Now dame, lays he, your daughter IVe married, 

Altho' you hold it never fo teugh; 
And friends Ihall fee (he's nae mifcarried, 

For I wat I have gear enough : 

An auld ga'd glyde fell owre the heugh, 
A cat, a cunnin, and a cock ; 

I wanted eight oufen, though I had the pleugh: 
May this not ferve your Jennie, quoth Jock? 

I have good fire for winter-weather, 

A cod o' caff wou*d fill a cradle, 
A halter, and a good hay-tether, 

A duck about the doors to paddle; 

The pannel of a good auld (addle. 
And Rob my emme hecht me a fock, 

Twa lovely lips to lick a laddie; 
Gif J E N N I E and I agree, quoth Jock. 

A treen-fpit, a ram-horn fpoon, 

A pair o' boots o' barked leather. 
All graith that's meet to coble (boon, 

A thraw-crook for to twine a tether; 

A fword, a fweel, a fwine's bladder, 
A trump o' (leel, a feather'd lock, 

An auld fcull-hat for winter-weather. 
And meikle mair, my Jennie, quoth Jock 

I have a cat to catch a moufe, 

A girfe-green cloak, but it will (lenzie; 
A pitch-fork to defend the houfe, 

A pair of branks, a bridle renzie ; 

Of a' our (lore we need not plenzie. 
Ten thoufand flechs intil a pock; 

And is not this a wakerife menzie. 
To gae to bed wi' J e n n i e and Jock? 



92 SCOTS SONGS. 

Now when their dinner they had done, 

Then Jock himfell began t* advance; 
He bad the piper play up foon, 

For, be his troth, he wou'd gae dance. 
The piper piped tilFs wyme gripped, 

And a' the rout began to revel : 
The bride about the ring fhe fkipped, 

Till out Harts baith the carle and caveL 

Weel danc'd, Dickie, fland afide, S a n d i e ; 

Weel danced E p p i e and Jennie! 
He that tynes a flot o' the fpring, 

Shall pay the piper a pennie. 
Weel danc'd, Hugh Fisher; 
Come, take out the bride and kifs her ; 
Weel danc'd, Bessie and St e'e n ! 
Now fick a dance was never feen 

Since ChriJTs Kirk on the green. 



Rock and wee Pickle Tow. 

T^HERE was an auld wife had a wee pickle tow, 

And fhe wad gae try the fpinning o't. 
But louten her down, her rock took a low, 

And that was an ill beginning o't; 
She lap and fhe grat, fhe flet and fhe flang, 
She trow and fhe drew, fhe ringled, fhe rang, 
She choaked fhe booked, and cried. Let me hang, 

That ever I try'd the fpinning o't 

I hae been a wife thefe threefcore of years, 
And never did try the fpinning o*t; 



1 



SCOTS SONGS. 93 

But how I was larked foul fa' them that fpeirs, 

For it minds me o' the beginning o*t; 
The women now a-days are turned iae bra', 
That ilk ane maun hae a fark, fome maun hae twa, 
But the warld was better whan feint ane ava, 

But a wee rag at the beginning o't 

Foul fa' them that e'er advis'd me to fpin, 

For it minds me o' the beginning o*t; 
I might well have ended as I had begun. 

And never had tr/d the fpinning o*t : 
But they lay Ihe's a wife wife wha kens her ain weird; 
I thought ance a day it wad never be fpeir'd, 
How loot you the low tak the rock by the beard, 

Whan you gaed to try the fpinning o*t? 

The fpinning, the fpinning, it gars my heart lab, 

Whan I think on the beginning o't; 
I thought ance in a day to 'ave made a wab, 

And this was to 'ave been the beginning o't; 
But had I nine doughters, as I hae but three, 
The lafeft and foundefl advice I wad gie, 
That they frae fpinning wad keep their hands free, 

For fear o' an ill beginning o't 

But in fpite of my counfel if they wad needs run 

The dreary fad talk o' the fpinning o't, 
Let them feek out a loun place at the heat o* the fun, 

S)me venture on the beginning o't : 
For, O do as IVe done, alake and vow. 
To bulk up a rock at the cheek of a low, 
They'd fay, that I had little wit in my pow, 
And as littie I've done wi' the fpinning o't 



94 SCOTS SONGS. 

Same Tune. 

T H A E a green purfe and a wee pickle gowd, 

A bonny piece land, and planting on't, 
It fattens my flocks, and my bams it has flowed; 

But the beft thing of a's yet wanting on*t : 
To grace it, and trace it, and gi*e me delight, 
To blefs me, and kifs me, and comfort my fight, 
With beauty by day, and kindnefs by night, 
And nae mair my lane gang faunt'ring on't 

My Chirstyis charming, and good as flie's fair; 

Her een and her mouth are inchanting fweet; 
She fmiles me on fire, her frowns gi*e defpair; 

I love while my heart gaes panting wi*t 
Thou faireft and deareft delight of my mind, 
Whofe gracious embraces by Heav'n were defign'd 
For happieft tranfports, and bliffes refin'd, 

Nae langer delay thy granting fweet. 

For thee, bonny Chirsty, my fliepherds and hynds 

Shall carefully make the year's dainties thine; 
Thus freed frae laigh care, while love fills our minds, 

Our days fliall with pleafure and plenty ihine. 
Then hear me, and chear me with fmiling confent, 
Believe me, and give me no caufe to lament. 
Since I ne'er can be happy till thou fay Content, 
I'm pleased with my Jamie, and he (hall be mine. 

To the Tune of Saw ye nae my P E G G Y . 

C^ O M E, let's hae mair wine in, 

Bacchus hates repining, 
Venus loes nae dwining. 
Let's be blyth and free. 



SCOTS SONGS. 95 

Away with dull, Here fye, Sir, 
Your miflrefs, R o b i e, gi'es her, 
We*ll drink her health wi' pleafure, 
Wha's belov'd by thee. 

Then let Peggy warm ye, 
That's a lafs can charm ye. 
And to joys alarm ye. 

Sweet is flie to me. 
Some angel ye wad ca' her. 
And never wifh ane brawer. 
If ye bareheaded faw her, 

Kiltit to the knee. 

P E G G Y a dainty lafs is; 
Come, let's join our glaffes, 
And refrelh our haafes. 

With a health to thee. 
Let coofs their cafh be clinking. 
Be llatefmen tint in thinking, 
While we with love and drinking 

Gie our cares the lie. 



A 



Spinning Wheel. 

S I fat at my fpinning-wheel, 
A bonny lad was paffing by: 
I viewed him round, and lik'd him weel, 
For trouth he had a glancing eye. 
My heart new panting 'gan to feel, 
But ftill I turned my fpinning-wheel. 



■k^MMA^^Mi^Bii 



96 SCOTS SONGS. 

With looks all kindnds he drew near, 
And ftill mail lovely did appear; 
And round about my flender waifl 
He dafp'd his arms, and me embrac'd : 

To kiis my hand fyne down did kneel. 

As I iat at my fpinning-wheeL 

My milk-white hands he did extol. 

And prais'd my fingers lang and finall. 

And laid, there was nae lady fair 

That ever cou'd with me compare. 

Thefe words into my heart did fleal. 
But dill I tum'd my fpinning-wheeL 

Altho' I feemingly did chide. 

Yet he wad never be deny'd. 

But ilill declared his love the mair, 

Untill my heart was wounded lair: 

That I my love cou'd fcarce conceal. 
Yet ftill I tum'd my fpinning-wheeL 

My hanks of yam, my rock and reel. 
My wumels and my fpinning-wheel ; 
He bid me leave them all with fpeed. 
And gang with him to yonder mead : 

My yielding heart ilrange flames didjfeel. 
Yet flill I tum'd my Q)inning-iiiieeL 

About my neck his arm he laid, 

And whifper'd, Rife, my bonny maid. 

And with me to yon haycock go, 

111 teach thee better wark to do. 

In trouth, I loo'd the motion weel. 
And loot alane my fpinning-wfaed. 



SCOTS SONGS. 97 

Amang the pleaiant cocks of hay, 
Then with my bonny lad I lay; 
What laffie, young and laft as I, 
Cou'd lick a handfome lad deny? 

Thefe pleafures I cannot reveal. 

That far furpafl the fpinning-wheel. 



Steer her up and had her gawin. 

r\ STEER her up, and had her gawin, 

Her mither's at the mill, jo; 
But gin fhe winna tak a man. 

E'en let her tak her will, jo. 
Pray thee, lad, leave filly thinking, 

Cafl thy cares of love away; 
Lef s our forrows drown in drinking, 

'Tis daffin langer to delay. 

See that fhining glafe of claret, 

How invitingly it looks; 
Tak it aflf, and let's hae mair o't. 

Pox on fighing, trade, and books. 
Let's hae mair pleafure while we're able. 

Bring us in the meikle bowl, 
Place't on the middle of the table. 

And let the wind and weather gowL 

Call the drawer, let him fill it 

Fou' as ever it can hold : 
O tak tent ye dinna fpill it, 

'Tis mair precious far then gold. 
By you've drunk a dozen bumpers, 

Bacchus will begin to prove, 
Vol. IL (7) I 



98 SCOTS SONGS. 

Spite of V E N u s and her mumpers, 
Drinking better is than love. 



Sleepy Body. 

QOmnolentey qucefoj repente 
Vigila, vivaty me tange. 

Somnolentey qtccefOy repente 

Vigila^ vive, me tange. 

Cum me ambiebas, 
Videri folebas 

Amoris negotiis aptus; 

Atfaflus morituSf 
In le6lofopitus 

Somno es, haud am^re, tu captus. 
O lleepy body, 
And drowfy body, 

O wiltima waken and turn thee? 
To drivel and draunt, 
While I figh and gaunt, 

Gives me good reafon to fcom thee. 

When thou fhouldft be kind. 

Thou turns fleepy and blind, 
And footers and fnores far frae me, 

Wae light on thy face. 

Thy drowfy embrace 
Is enough to gar me betray thee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 99 

Sir John Malcolm. 

jT" EEP ye weel frae Sir John Malcolm, Igo 

and ago, 
If he's a wife man, I miflak him, Iram coram dago. 
Keep ye weel frae Sandie Don, Igo and ago. 
He's ten times dafter than Sir J o h n, Iram coram dago. 

To hear them of their travels talk, 
To gae to London's but a walk : 
I hae been at Amflerdam, 
Where I faw mony a braw madam. 

To fee the wonders of the deep. 
Wad gar a man baith wail and weep; 
To fee the Leviathans (kip. 
And wi' their tail ding o'er a fliip. 

Was ye e'er in Crail town? 
Did ye fee Clark Dishingtoun? 
His wig was Hke a drouket hen. 
And the tail o't hang doun, 

like a meikle maan lang draket gray goofe-pen. 

But for to make ye mair enamour'd, 
He has a glafs in his befl chamber; 
But forth he flept unto the door, 
For he took pills the night before. 

There's my thumb I'll ne'er beguile thee. 

"|V4*Y fweeteil May, let love incline thee, 

T* accept a heart which he defigns thee; 
And, as your conflant flave regard it, 
Syne for its faithfulnefs reward it 

I 2 



100 SCOTS SONGS. 

Tis proof a-fhot to birth or money, 
But yields to what is fweet and bonny; 
Receive it then with a kifs and a fmily, 
There's my thumb it will ne'er beguile ye. 

How tempting fweet thefe lips of thine are ! 
Thy bofom white and legs fae fine are, 
That, when in pools I fee thee clean 'em, 
They carry away my heart between 'em. 
I wilh, and I wiih, while it gaes duntin, 
O gin I had thee on a mountain, 
Tho' kith and kin and a' fhou'd revile thee, 
There's my thumb I'll ne'er beguile thee. 

Alane through flow'ry hows I dander, 
Tenting my flocks lefl they fhould wander; 
Gin thou'll gae alang, I'll dawt thee gaylie, 
And gi' ye my thumb I'll ne'er beguile thee. 
O my dear laflie, it is but daffin, 
To had thy wooer up ay niff-naffin. 
That Na, na, na, I hate it moil vilely, 
O fay Yes, and I'U ne'er beguile thee. 



Tarry Woo. 

*np A R R Y woo, tarry woo. 
Tarry woo is ill to fpin, 
Card it well, card it well, 
Card it well ere ye begin. 
When 'tis carded, row'd and fpun, 
Then the work is haflens done; 
But when woven, dreft and clean, 
It may be cleading for a queen. 



SCOTS SONGS. loi 

Sing, my bonny harmlefs flieep, 
That feed upon the mountains Heap, 
Bleating fweetly as ye go 
Thro' the winter's froll and fnow; 
Hart and h)nid and fallow deer, 
No be ha'f fo ufeful are; 
Frae kings to him that ha'ds the plow, 
Are all obliged to tarry woo. 

Up ye fhepherds, dance and Ikip, 
O'er the hills and valleys trip, 
Sing up the praife of tarry woo. 
Sing the flocks that bear it too; 
Harmlefs creatures without blame, 
That dead the back and cram the wame, 
Keep us warm and hearty fou; 
Leefe me on the tarry woo. 

How happy is a fliepherd's life, 
Far frae courts and free of flrife, 
While the gimmers bleat and bae. 
And the lambkins anfwer mae? 
No fuch mufic to his ear, 
Of thief or fox he has no fear; 
Sturdy kent and colly too, 
Well defend the tarry woo. 

He lives content, and envies none; 
Not even a monarch on his throne, 
Tho' he the royal fcepter fways. 
Has not fweeter holydays. 
Who'd be a king, can ony tell. 
When a fhepherd fmgs fae well; 
Sings fae well, and pays his due. 
With honell heart and tarry woo? 

13 



102 SCOTS SONGS. 



Tak your auld Cloak about you. 

TN Winter when the rain rain'd cauld, 

And froil and fnaw on ilka hill, 
And Boreas, wi' his blafls fae bauld, 

Was threatening a' our ky to kill : 
Then Bell, my wife, wha lo*es nae ftrife. 

She faid to me right haflily, 
Get up, goodman, fave Cromy's life. 

And tak your auld cloak about ye. 

O Bell, why dojl thouflyte and f corn ? 

Thou kenjl my cloak is very thin: 
Itisfo hare and overworney 

A cricke he thereon cannot rin: 
Then Fll noe longer borrow nor lend^ 

For afice Fll new apparel d be, 
To-morrow Fll to town andfpend. 

For Fll have a new cloak about me. 

My Cromie is an ufeful cow. 

And flie is come of a good kine; 
Aft has flie wet the bairns* mou, 

And I am laith that (he fhould tjme; 
Get up, goodman, it is fou time, 

The fun fliines in the lift fae hie ; 
Sloth never made a gracious end, 

Gae tak your auld cloak about ye. 

My cloak was anes a good grey cloak. 
When it was fitting for my wear; 

But now its fcantly worth a groat, 
For I have wom't this thirty year; 



SCOTS SONGS. 103 

Let's fpend the gear that we have won, 

We little ken the day we'll die; 
Then I'll be proud, fince I have fwom 

To have a new cloak about me. 

In days when our King Robert rang, 

His trews they cofl but ha'f-a-crown; 
He faid they were a groat o'er dear, 

And ca'd the taylor thief and lown; 
He was the king that wore a crown. 

And thou'rt a man of laigh degree, 
'Tis pride puts a' the country down, 

Sae tak thy auld cloak about thee. 

Every land has its ain lough. 

Ilk kind of com it has its hool; 
I think the warld is a' run wrang. 

When ilka wife her man wad rule ; 
Do ye not fee R o b, J o c K and H a b. 

As they are girded gallantly. 
While I fit hurklen in the afe? 

I'U have a new cloak about me. 

Goodman, I wat 'tis thirty years 

Since we did ane anither ken ; 
And we have had between us twa, 

Of lads and bonny laffes ten : 
Now, they are women grown and men, 

I wifh and pray well may they be; 
And if you prove a good hufband, 

E'en tak your auld cloak about ye. 

Bell, my wife flie lo'es na ilrife; 
But Ihe wad guide me if (he can, 



104 SCOTS SONGS. 

'And to maintain an eafy life, 

I aft maun yield, tho' I*m goodman : 

Nought's to be won at woman's hand, 
Unlefs ye gi'e her a' the plea; 

Then I'll leave aflf where I began, 
And tak my auld cloak about me. 



TiBBY FowLEK of the Glen. 

'T'IBBY has a (lore of charms, 

Her genty fliape our fancy warms; 
How flrangely can her fma' white arms 

Fetter the lads who look but at her! 
Frae her ancle to her flender waifl, 

Thefe fweets conceal'd invite to dawt her; 
Her rofy cheek and rifmg breail 

Gar ane's mouth gufh bowt fu' of water. 

Nelly's gawfy, faft, and gay, 
Frefh as the lucken flowers in May ; 
Ilk ane that fees her, cryes. Ah, hey ! 

She's bonny ! Oh ! I wonder at her. 
The dimples of her chin and cheek. 

And limbs fae plump invite to dawt her; 
Her lips fae fweet, and fkin fae fleek, 

Gar mony mouths befides mine water. 

Now (Irike my finger in a bore, 
My wifon wi' the maiden fliore, 
Gin I can tell whilk I am for. 

When thefp twa flars appear the gither ; 



F 



SCOTS SONGS. 105 

Love ! why didfl thou gi'e thy fires 

Sae large, while we're obliged to neither? 
Our fpacious fauls' immenfe defires, 
And ay be in a hankerin fwither. 

T I B B y's fhape and airs are fine, 
And N E L L y's beauties are divine; 
But fince they canna baith be mine, 

Ye gods, give ear to my petition : 
Provide a good lad for the tane, 

But let it be with this provifion, 

1 get the other to my lane, 

In profpeiSl, planoy and fruition. 



This is no mine ain houfe. 

T^ H I S is no mine ain houfe, 
I ken by the rigging o't; 
Since with my love I've changed vows, 

I dinna like the bigging o't. 
For now that I'm young R o b i b's bride, 
And miftrefs of his fire-fide, 
Mine ain houfe I like to guide, 

And pleafe me wi' the trigging o't. 

Then farewell to my father's houfe, 
I gang where love invites me; 

The (Iridleft duty this allows. 
When love with honour meets me. 

When Hymen moulds me into ane, 



io6 SCOTS SONGS. 

My R o B I e's nearer than my kin, 
And to refiife him were a fm, 
Sae langfs he kindly treats me. 

When I am in mine ain houfe, 

True love fhall be at hand ay, 
To make me flill a prudent fpoufe, 

And let my man command ay; 
Avoiding ilka caufe of ftrife. 
The common peft of married Hfe, 
That makes ane wearied of his wife, 

And breaks the kindly band ay. 



Todlen hame. 

'\X7 HAN IVe a faxpence under my thum. 
Then I'll get credit in ilka town : 

But ay whan I'm poor they bid me gang by; 

O ! poverty parts good company. 
Todlen hame^ todlen hame^ 
Coiidna my love come todlen hame? 

Fair fa* the goodwife, and fend her good fale, 
She gi'es us white bannocks to drink her ale, 
Syne if her typpony chance to be fma'. 
We'll tak a good fcour o't, and ca't awa*. 
Todlen hame, todlen hame. 
As round as a neep come todlen ham^. 

My kimmer and I lay down to fleep, 
And twa pint floups at our bed-feet; 



SCOTS SONGS. 107 

And ay when we wakened we drank them dry : 
What think you of my wee kimraer and I? 
Todlen butt and todlen ben, 
Sa^ round as my lave comes todlen hame, 

Leez me on liquor, my todlen dow, 
Ye're ay lae good-humour'd when weeting your mou'; 
When fober lae four, ye*ll fight wi' a flee, 
That it's a blyth fight to the bairns and me, 
Todlen kame^ todlen hame, 
When round as a neep ye come todlen hame. 



Whafs that to you? 

TVTY Jeany and I have toiPd 

The live-lang fummer-day, 
Till we amaifl were fpoiFd 

At making of the hay: 
Her kurchy was of hoUand clear, 

Ty'd on her bonny brow; 
I whifper'd fomething in her ear. 

But whafs that to you? 

Her {lockings were of Kerfy green, 

As tight as ony filk : 
O fick a leg was never feen. 

Her Ikin was white as milk; 
Her hair was black as ane could wifh, 

And fweet fweet was her mou; 
Oh ! Jeany daintily can kifs. 

But what's that to you? 



io8 SCOTS SONGS. 

The rofe and lily baith combine 

To make my J e a n y fair, 
There is no bennifon like mine, 

I have amaift nae care; 
Only I fear my J e a N y' s face 

May caufe mae men to rue, 
And that may gar me fay, Alas ! 

But what's that to you? 

Conceal thy beauties if thou can, 

Hide that fweet face of thine, 
That I may only be the man 

Enjoys thefe looks divine. 
O do not proftitute, my dear, 

Wonders to common view, 
And I, with faithful heart, fhall fwear 

For ever to be true. 

King Solomon had wives enew, 

And mony a concubine; 
But I enjoy a blifs mair true; 

His joys were fhort of mine : 
And J E A N y's happier than they, 

She feldom wants her due; 
All debts of love to her I'll pay, 

And what's that to you? 



Were na my Heart light I wad die. 

*np HERE was ance a M a y, and flie loe'd na men, 

She biggit her bonny bow'r down in yon glen; 
But now flie cries dool ! and a well-a-day ! 
Come down the green gate, and come here away. 
But nowjhe cries, &*c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 109 

When bonny young J o h n y came o'er the fea, 
He faid he faw naething lae lovely as me; 
He hecht me baith rings and mony bra things; 
• And were na my heart light I wad die. 
He hecht me, &c. 

He had a wee titty that leed na me, 
Becaufe I was twice as bonny as (he; 
She rais'd fick a pother 'twixt him and his mother. 
That were na my heart light I wad die. 
She rais'dy &c. 

The day it was fet, and the bridal to be, 
The wife took a dwam, and lay down to die; 
She main'd and ihe grain'd out of dolour and pain, 
Till he vow'd he never wad fee me again. 
She main^dy &a 

His kin was for ane of a higher degree. 
Said, What had he to do with the like of me ! 
Albeit I was bonny, I was na for J o h n y: 
And were na my heart light I wad die. 
Albeit I was bonny y &c. 

They faid I had neither cow nor cafF, 
Nor dribbles of drink rins throw the draff, 
Nor pickles of meal rins throw the mill-eye; 
And were na my heart light I wad die. 
Nor pickles of, &c. 

His titty ihe was baith wylie and flee. 
She fp/d me as I came o'er the lee; 
And then flie ran in and made a loud din. 
Believe your ain een, an ye trow na me. 
And thenjhe^ &c. 

Vol. n. K 



no SCOTS SONGS. 

His bonnet flood ay fii' round on his brow; 
His auld ane looks ay as well as fome's new: 
But now he lets't wear ony gate it will hing, 
And cails himfelf dowie upo' the com-bing. 
But now he, &c. 

And now he gaes drooping about the dykes, 
And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes : 
The live-lang night he ne'er fleeks his eye, 
And were na my heart light I wad die. 
The live-langy &c. 

Were I young for thee, as I hae been. 
We fhou'd hae been galloping down on yon green. 
And linking it on the lily-white lee ; 
And wow gin I were but young for. thee. 
And linking^ &c. 



Where will our Goodman \y} 

HE. 

"1X7 HERE wad bonnie Annie ly? 

Alane nae mair ye maun ly; 
Wad ye a goodman try? 

Is that the thing ye Ye lacking! 

SHE. 

Can a lafs fae young as I, 
Venture on the bridal-tye, 
Syne down with a goodman ly? 
I'm flee'd he keep me wauking. 



SCOTS SONGS. Ill 

HE. 



Never judge until ye try, 
Mak me your goodman, I 
Shanna hinder you to ly, 
And fleep till ye be weary. 



SHE. 



What if I fhou'd wauking ly, 
When the hoboys are gawn by, 
Will ye tent me when I cry. 
My dear, I'm faint and iry? 



HE. 



In my bofom thou (halt ly, 
When thou wakrife art, or dry, 
Healthy cordial {landing by, 
Shall prefently revive thee. 



SHE. 



To your will I then comply. 
Join us, priefl, and let me try, 
How I'll wi' a goodman ly, 
Wha can a cordial gi'e me. 



Widow, are ye waking.? 

/^ Wha's that at my chamber-door? 

" Fair widow, are ye waking?'* 
Auld carl, your fuit give o'er, 
Your love lyes a' in tawking. 

K2 



112 SCOTS SONGS. 

Gi'e me a lad that's young and tight, 

Sweet like an April meadow; 
'Tis fick as he can blefs the fight, 

And bofom of a widow. 

** O widow, wilt thou let me in? 

" I'm pawky, wife, and thrifty, 
** And come of a right gentle kin; 

" I'm little mair than fifty." 
Daft carle, dit your mouth. 

What fignifies how pawky. 
Or gentle-bom ye be, — ^bot youth, 

In love ye're but a gawky. 

" Then, widow, let thefe guineas fpeak, 

"That powerfully plead clinkan; 
" And if they fail, my mouth I'll fleek, 

" And nae mair love will think on." 
Thefe court indeed, I maun confefs, 

I think they mak you young. Sir, 
And ten times better can exprefs 

Aflfe6lion, than your tongue, Sir. 



Wap at the Widow, my Laddie. 

npHE widow can bake, and the widow can brew. 
The widow can fliape and the widow can sew, 
And mony bra things the widow can do; 

Then hav.e at the widow, my laddie. 
With courage attack her baith early and late, 
To kifs her and clap her you manna be blate; 
Speak well and do better, for that's the beft gate 

To win a young widow, my laddie. 



SCOTS SONGS. 113 

The widow Ihe's youthfu', and never ae hair 
The war of the wearing, and has a good Ikair 
Of every thing lovely; (he's witty and fair, 

And has a rich jointure, my laddie? 
What cou'd you wifh better your pleafure to crown, 
Than a widow, the bonniell toall in the town, 
Wi' naething but draw in yoiu: flool and fit down. 

And fport wi' the widow, my laddie? 

Then till 'er and kill 'er wi' courtefie dead, 
Tho' Hark love and krndnefs be a' ye can plead; 
Be heartfome and airy, and hope to fucceed 

Wi' a bonny gay widow, my laddie. 
Strike iron while 'tis het, if ye'd have it to wald, 
For Fortune ay favours the adlive and bauld, 
But ruins the wooer that's thowlefs and cauld, 

Unfit for the widow, my laddie. 



Willie was a vi^anton Wag. 

TTT" I L L I E was a wanton wag, 
^^ The blythea lad that e'er I faw, 
At bridals flill he bore the brag. 

And carried ay the gree awa' : 
His doublet was of Zetland ihag. 

And wow ! but W i l l i e he was braw. 
And at his (houlder hang a tag. 

That pleas'd the laffes bell of a'. 

He was a man without a clag, 

His heart was frank without a flaw; 

(8) K3 



114 SCOTS SONGS. 

And ay whatever Willie faid, 

It was llill hadden as a law. 
His boots they were made of the jag, 

When he went to the Weaponfhaw, 
Upon the green nane duril him brag, 

The fiend a ane amang them a'. 

And was not Willie well worth gowd? 

He wan the love of great and fma' ; 
For after he the bride had kifs'd, 

He kifs'd the laffes hale-lale a'. 
Sae merrily round the ring they roVd, 

When be the hand he led them a', 
And fmack on finack on them beflow'd. 

By virtue of a Handing law. 

And was nae Willie a great lown, 

As ihyiQ a lick as e'er was feen? 
When he danc'd wi* the laffes round, 

The bridegroom fpeir'd where he had been. 
Quoth Willie, IVe been at the ring, 

Wi' bobbing, faith, my (hanks are lair; 
Gae ca' your bride and maiden in. 

For Willie he dow do nae mair. 

Then reft ye, W i l l i e, I'll gae out, 

And for a wee fill up the ring. 
But, Ihame light on his fouple fnout. 

He wanted Willie's wanton fling. 
Then ftraight he to the bride did fare, 

Says, Well's me on your bonny face; 
Wi' bobbing Willie's (hanks are fair, 

And I'm come out to fill his place. 



SCOTS SONGS. 115 

Bridegroom, Ihe fays, you'll fpoil the dance. 

And at the ring you'll ay be lag, 
Unlefs, like W i l l i e, ye advance : 

O ! Willie has a wanton leg; 
For wi't he learns us a' to fleer. 

And foremoll ay bears up the ring; 
We will find nae fick dancing here, 

If we want Willi e's wanton fling. 



Woo'd and married and a'. 

'JljrO 0' D and married and cC ^ 
Wodd and married and dy 
Wa^Jhe nae very weel aff^ 

Was wodd and married and a\ 
The Bride came out of the byre, 

And O as (he dighted her cheeks, 
Sirs, I'm to be married the night, 

And has neither blankets nor (heets, 

Has neither blankets nor (heets. 

Nor fcarce a coverlet too; 
The bride that has a' to borrow, 

Has e'en right meikle ado. 
Woddy and married^ &c. 

Out fpake the bride's father, 
As he came in firae the plough; 

O had ye're tongue, my doughter. 
And ye's get gear enough; 

The (lirk that (lands i' the tether, 
And our bra' bafm'd yade, 



ii6 SCOTS SONGS. 

Will cany ye hame your com, 
What wad ye be at, ye jad? 
Woddy and married^ &c. 

Out fpake the bride's mither, 

What d— 1 needs a' this pride; 
I had nae a plack in my pouch 

That night I was a bride; 
My gown was linfy-woolfy. 

And ne'er a fark ava; 
And ye hae ribbons and bulkins, 

Mae than ane or tv/a. 
Wodd, and married^ &c. 

What's the matter, quo Willie, 

Tho* we be fcant o' claiths, 
We'll creep the nearer tlie gither, ■ 

And we'll fmore a' the fleas : 
Simmer is coming on, 

And we'll get teats of woo; 
And we'll get a lafs o' our ain. 

And (he'll fpin claiths enew. 
Woddy and married^ &c 

Out fpake the bride's brither. 

As he came in wi' the kie; 
Poor Willie had ne'er a ta'en ye, 

Had he kent ye as weel as I ; 
For you're baith proud and fancy, 

And no for a poor man's wife ; 
Gin I canna get a better, 

Ife never tak ane i' my life. 
Woddy and married^ &c. 

Out fpake the bride's fifler. 
As flie came in frae the byre; 



SCOTS SONGS. 117 

gin I were but married, 
It's a' that I delire : 

But we poor fo'k maun live fingle, 
And do the befl we can; 

1 dinna care what I fhou'd want, 
If I cou'd get but a man. 

Woddy and married, &c. 



Wat ye wha I met Yeftreen.? 

"M" O W wat ye wha I met yeflreen, 

Coming down the flreet, my jo? 
My millrefs in her tartan fcreen, 
Fow bonny, braw, and fweet, my jo. 
My dear, quoth I, thanks to the night, 
That never wifh'd a lover ill, 
Since ye're out of your mithefs fight, 
Let's take a wauk up to the hilL 

O K A T Y, wiltu* gang wi' me, 
And leave the dinfome town a while? 
The bloffom's fprouting frae the tree, 
And a' the limmer's gaw'n to fmile : 
The mavis, nightingale, and lark, 
The bleating lambs, and whillling hind, 
In ilka dale, green, Ihaw, and park. 
Will nourifh health, and glad ye'r mind. 

Soon as the clear goodman of day 
Bends up his morning-draught of dew. 
We'll gae to fome bum-fide and play. 
And gather flowers to bufk ye'r brow: 



ii8 SCOTS SONGS. 

We'll pou the dailies on the green, 
The lucken gowans frae the bog; 
Between hands now and then we'll lean, 
And fport upo' the velvet fog. 

There's up into a pleafant glen, 
A wee piece frae my father's tow'r, 
A canny, foil, and flow'ry den. 
Where circling birks have form'd a bow'r : 
Whene'er the fun grows high and warm. 
Well to the cauler (hade remove; 
There will I lock thee in mine arm, 
And love and kifs, and kifs and love. 

Katy's Anfwer. 

TiTY mither's ay glowran o'er me, 

Though (he did the fame before me; 
I canna get leave to look to my loove. 
Or elfe Ihe'll be like to devour me. 

Right fain wad I tak ye'r offer, 
Sweet Sir, but I'll tine my tocher; 
Then, Sandy, ye'll fret, and wyte ye'r poor Kate, 
Whene'er ye keek in your toom coffer. 

For tho* my father has plenty 
Of filler and plenifhing dainty, 
Yet he's unco fwear to twin wi' his gear ; 
And lae we had need to be tenty. 

Tutor my parents wi' caution. 
Be wylie in ilka motion; 
Brag weel o' ye'r land, and there's my leal hand. 
Win them, I'll be at your devotion. 



SCOTS SONGS. 119 



Well a' to Kelfo go. 

A N m awa' to bonny Tweed-fide, 
And fee my deary come throw, 
And he fall be mine, gif fae he incline, 
For I hate to lead apes below. 

While young and fair, 1*11 make it my care, 

To fecure myfelf in a jo; 
I'm no fick a fool to let my blood cool, 

And fyne gae lead apes below. 

Few words, bonny lad, will eithly perfuade. 
Though blufliing, I daftly fay, no; 

Gae on with your llrain, and doubt not to gain, 
For I hate to lead apes below. 

Unt/d to a man, do whatever we can. 

We never can thrive or dow; 
Then I will do well, do better wha will. 

And let them lead apes below. 

Our time is precious, and gods are gracious, 

That beauties upon us beflow : 
Tis not to be thought we got them for nought, 

Or to be fet up for a fhow. 

'Tis carried by votes, come, kilt up yeV coats, 

And let us to Edinburgh go, 
Where flie that's bonny may catch a J o h N y, 

And never lead apes below. 



I20 SCOTS SONGS. 



Wayward Wife. 

A L A s ! my fon, you little know, 

The forrows that from wedlock flow. 
Farewell to every day of eafe, 
When youVe gotten a wife to pleafe : 
Sae bide you yet, and bide you yet, 
Ye little ken whafs to betide you yet. 
The half of that will gane you yet. 
If a wayward wife obtain you yet. 

The blatk cow on your foot ne'er trod, 
Which gars you fing alang the road, 
Sae bide you yet, &c. 

Sometimes the rock, fometimes the reel, 
Or fome piece of the fpinning wheel. 
She will drive at ye wi' good will, 
And then flie'll fend ye to the deil. 
Sae bide ye yet, &c. 

When I like you was young and free, 
I valu'd not the proudefl flie; 
Like you I vainly boafled then. 
That men alone were born to reign; 
But bide you yet, &c. 

Great Hercules and Samson too, 
Were llronger men than I or you; 
Yet they were baffled by their dears. 
And felt the diflaflf and the Iheers; 
Sae bide you yet, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 121 

Stout gates of brafs, and well-built walls, 
Are proof 'gainil fwords and cannon-balls, 
But nought is found by fea or land, 
That can a wayward wife withfland. 
Sae bideyeyety &c. 



We're gayly yet. 

JI^E'RE gayly yety and wire gayly yety 

And wire no veryfoUy but wire gayly yet; 
Then fit ye a while, and tipple a bity 
For wire no veryfou, but wire gayly yet. 
There was a lad and they ca'd him Dicky, 
He gae me a kifs, and I bit his lippy; 
Then under my apron he fheVd me a trick; 
And we're no very fou', but we're gayly yet. 
And wire gayly yety &c. 

There were three lads, and they were clad. 
There were three laffes, and they them had, 
Three trees in the orchard are newly fprung, 
And we's a' get gear enough, we're but young, 

Then up wHt Aillie, Aillie, 

Up wity Aillie, nowy 

Then up wt'ty Aillie, quo^ cummer y 

Wis d get roaring fou. 

And one was kifs'd in the bam. 

Another was kifs*d on the green. 
The third behind the peafe flack, 

Till the mow flew up to her een. 

Then up wity &c. 
Vol. II. L 



1 



122 SCOTS SONGS. 

Now, fy, John Thomson, rin. 

Gin ever ye ran in your life; 
De'il get you, but hey, my dear Jack, 

There's a man got a-bed with your wife 

Then up wHt^ &c. 

Then away John Thomson ran. 
And I trow he ran with fpeed ; 

But before he had run his length, 
The falfe loon had done the deed. 
Wire gayly ydy &c. 



Up and war them a', WiLLlE. 

TXT" H EN we went to the field of war. 

And to the Weaponfliaw, Willie, 
With true defign to iland our ground. 

And chace our faes awa', Willie; 
Lairds and Lords came there bedeen. 
And vow gin they were pra', Willie, 
Up and war ^em a\V^ ii.iti'E.y 
War 'em, war '^!w d^', W i l l i e. 

And when our army was drawn up. 
The brawell e'er I faw, Willie, 

We did not doubt to rax the rout. 
And win the day and a', W i l l i e. 

Pipers pla/d frae right to left, 

Fy, fourugh Whigs awa', Willie, 
Up and war, &c. 

But when our flandard was fet up, 
So fierce the wind did bla', Willie, 



SCOTS SONGS. 123 

The golden knop down fix>m the top, 

Unto the ground did fa', Willie. 
Then fecond-fighted Sandy laid, 

Well do nae good at a*, W i l l i e. 
Up and war^ &c. 

When bra'ly they attacked our left. 

Our front, and flank, and a', W i l l i e; 

Our bald commander on the green, 
Our faes their left did ca, W i l l i e, 

And there the greateft llaughter made 
That e'er poor T o n a l d faw, Willie. 
Up and wary &c 

Firfl when they faw our Highland mob, 
They fwore they'd flay us a', W i l l i e : 

And yet ane fyl'd his breiks for fear, 
And fo did rin awa', Willie. 

We drave him back to Bonnybrigs, 
Dragoons, and foot, and a', W i l l i e. 
Up and wary &c. 

But when their gen'ral view'd our lines. 

And them in order faw, Willie, 
He flraight did march into the town. 

And back his left did draw, Willie. 
Thus we taught him the better gate 

To get a better fa', W i l l i e. 
Up and wary &c 

And then we raU/d on the hills, 

And bravely up did draw, Willie: 

But gin ye fpear wha wan the day, 
I'll tell you what I faw, Willie: 

L2 



124 SCOTS SONGS 

We baith did fight, and baith were beat, 
And baith did rin awa*, Willie. 

So there's my canty Highland lang 
About the thing I faw, Willie. 



Up in the Air. 

"jM" O W the fun's gane out of fight. 

Beet the ingle, and Ihuff the light 
In glens the fairies Ikip and dance. 
And witches wallop o'er to France. 

Up in the air, on my bonny grey mare, 
And I fee her yet, and I fee her yet, 
Up in, &c. 

The wind's drifting hail and fiia'. 
O'er frozen hags, like a foot-ba'; 
Nae flams keek thro' the azure flit, 
'Tis cauld and mirk as ony pit. 

The man i' the moon is caroufmg aboon, 
D' ye fee, d' ye fee, d' ye fee him yet? 
The man, &c 

Tak your glafs to clear your een, 
'Tis the elixir heals the fpleen, 
Baith wit and mirth it will infpire. 
And gently puflF the lover's fire : 

Up in the air, it drives awa' care; 
Ha'e wi' ye, ha'e wi' ye, and ha'e wi' ye, lads, yet 
Up in, &c 

Steek the doors, had out the fi*ofl; 
Come, Willie, gie's about ye'r toafl; 



SCOTS SONGS. 125 

Till't lads, and lilt it out, 

And let us hae a blythfome bout 

Up wi't there, there, dinna cheat, but drink fair: 
Huzza, huzza, and huzza, lads, yet 
Up wPty &c 



The yellow-hair'd Laddie. 

npHE yellow-hair'd laddie fat down on yon brae. 

Cries, Milk the ewes, laffie, let nane of them gae ; 
And ay flie milked, and ay flie fang, 
The yellow-hair'd laddie fliall be my goodman. 
And ayjhe milked, &c. 

The weather is cauld, and my claithing is thin, 
The ewes are new clipped, they winna bught in; 
They winna bught in tho' I Ihou'd die, 
O yellow-hair'd laddie, be kind to me, 
They winna bught in, &c. 

The goodwife cries butt the houfe, Jenny, come ben, 
The cheefe is to mak, and the butter's to kirn ; 
Tho' butter, and cheefe, and a' fliou'd fowre, 
I'll crack and kifs wi' my love ae half hour; 
It's ae haflF hour, and we's e'en mak it three. 
For the yellow-hair'd laddie my hufband Ihall be. 



The Wife of Auchtermuchty. 

TN Auchtermuchty dwelt a man. 

An hulband, as I heard it tawld, 
Quha weil coud tipple out a can, 
And nowther luvit hungir nor cauld : 

L3 



126 SCOTS SONGS 

Till anes it fell upon a day, 

He zokit his plewch upon the plain; 
And fchort the ilorm wald let him flay, 

Sail blew the day with wind and rain. 

He loofd the plewch at the lands end, 

And draife his owfen hame at ene; 
Quhen he came in he blinkit ben, 

And faw his Wyfe baith dry and clene, 
Set beikand by a fyre fu' bauld, 

Suppand fat fowp, as I heard fay : 
The man being weary, wet, and cauld, 

Betwein thir twa it was nae play. 

Quod he, Quhair is my horfes com. 

My owfen has nae hay or llrae. 
Dame, ze maun to the plewch the mom, 

I fall be huffy gif I may. 
This feid-time it proves cauld and bad. 

And ze fit warm, nae troubles fe; 
The mom ze fall gae wi' the lad. 

And fyne zeil ken what drinkers drie. 

Gudeman, quod fcho, content am I, 

To tak the plewch my day about, 
Sae ye mle weil the kaves and ky. 

And all the houfe baith in and out : 
And now fen ze haif made the law. 

Then gyde all richt and do not break; 
They ficker raid that neir did faw. 

Therefore let naething be negle<5i 

But fen ye will huffyfkep ken, 

Firfl ze maun lift and fyne fall kned ; 

And ay as ze gang butt and ben, 

Luke that the baims dryt not the bed: 



SCOTS SONGS. 127 

And lay a faft wyfp to the kiln, 

We half a dear &urm on our heid; 
And ay as ze gang forth and in, 

Keip weil the gaiilings frae the gled. 

The wyfe was up richt late at ene, 

I pray luck gife her ill to hir, 
Scho kim'd the kirn, and fkumt it clene, 

Left the gudeman but bledoch bair : 
Then in the morning up fcho gat; 

And on her heart laid her disjune, 
And pat as mickle in her lap, 

As micht haif ferd them baith at nune. 

Says, J o K, be thou mailler of wark, 

And thou fall had, and I fall ka, 
Ife promife thee a gude new fark, 

Either of round claith or of fma. 
She lowll the oufen aught or nyne, 

And hynt a gad-llafF in her hand; 
Up the Gudeman raife aftir fyne, 

And law the Wyfe had done command. 

He draif the gainings forth to feid, 

Thair was but fevenfum of them aw, 
And by thair comes the greidy gled, 

And lickt up five, left him but twa: 
Then out he rane in all his mane, 

How fune he hard the gaining cry; 
But than or he came in again, 

The kaves brake loufe and fuckt the ky. 

The caves and ky met in the loan, 

The man ran wi' a rung to red. 
Than by came an illwilly roan, 

And brodit his buttocks till they bled; 



128 SCOTS SONGS. 

Syne up he tuke a rok of tow, 

And he fat down to fey the fpinning ; 

He loutit doun our neir the low, 

Quod he, This wark has ill beginning. 

The leam up throu the lum did flow, 

The fute tuke fire, it flyed him than. 
Sum lumps did fa* and burn his pow; 

I wat he was a dirty man; 
Zit he gat water in a pan, 

Quherwith he flokend out the fyre : 
To foup the houfe he fyne began. 

To had all richt was his def)n:e. 

Hynd to the kim then did he lloure, 

And jumblit at it till he fwat, 
Quhen he had rumblit a full lang hour. 

The forrow crap of butter he gat; 
Albeit nae butter he could get, 

Zet he was cummert wi' the kim, 
And fyne he het the milk fae het, 

That ill a fpark of it wad zyme. 

Then ben thair came a greedy fow, 

I trow he cund her little thank : 
For in fcho fhot her mickle mow. 

And ay fcho winkit, and ay fcho drank. 
He tuke the kimflaflF be the fchank. 

And thocht to reik the fow a root, 
The twa left gainings gat a clank, 

That ftraik dang baith their hams out. 

Then he bure kendling to the kill, 

But fcho ftart up all in a low, 
Quhat eir he heard, what eir he faw 

That day he had nae will to * * 



SCOTS SONGS. 129 

Then he zied to tak up the baims, 
Thocht to have fund them fair and dene, 

The firft that he gat in his arms, 
Was a bedirtin to the ene. 

The firfl it finellt fae fappylie, 

To touch the lave he did not grien : 
The deil cut aff thair hands, quoth he, 

That cramd zour kytes fae Unite zellrein. 
He traild the foul flieits down the gate, 

Thocht to have waflit them on a flane, 
The bum was rifen grit of fpait, 

Away frae him the flieits has tane. 

Then up he gat on a know-heid, 

On hir to cry, on hir to fchout; 
Scho hard him, and fcho hard him not. 

But lloutly lleird the (lots about 
Scho draif the day unto the nicht, 

Scho lowfl the plewch, and fyne came hame; 
Scho fand all wrang that fould bene richt, 

I trow the man thocht mekle fchame. 

Quoth he, My office I forfake. 

For all the hale days of my lyfe ; 
For I wald put a houfe to wraik, 

Had I been twenty days gudewjrfe. 
Quoth fcho, Weil mot ze bruik your place, 

For truly I fall neir accept it; 
Quoth he, Feynd fa the lyar's face. 

But zit ze may be blyth to get it 

Then up fcho gat a meikle rung; 

And the gudeman made to the dore, 
Quoth he. Dame, I fall hald my tung. 

For an we fecht I'll get the war. 

(9) 



I30 SCOTS SONGS 

Quoth he, When I forfuke my plewch, 

I trow I but forfuke my (kill : 
Then I will to my plewch again; 

For I and this houfe will nevir do weil. 



Bannocks of Barley-meal. 

"AT Y name is A r g y l l : you may think it flrange. 

To live at the court, and never to change ; 
All falfehood and flatfry I do difdain; 
In my fecret thoughts no deceit fliall remain : 
In fiege or in battle I ne'er was difgrac'd^ 
I always my king and my country have fac'd; 
I'll do any thing for my country's well, 
I'd live upo' bannocks o' barley-meal. 

Adieu to the courtiers of London town, 
For to my ain country I will gang down ; 
At the fight of Kirkaldy ance again, 
I'll cock up my bonnet, and march amain. 
O the muckle de'il tak a' your noife and (Irife, 
I'm fully refolv'd for a country life, 
Where a' the bra' lafTes, wha kens me well, 
Will feed me wi' bannocks o' barley-meal. 

I'll quickly lay down my fword and my gun, 
And I'll put my plaid and my bonnet on, 
Wi' my plaiding llockings and leather-heel'd fhoon; 
They'll mak me appear a fine fprightly loon. 
And when I am drell thus frae tap to tae, 
Hame to my Maggie I think for to gae, 
Wi' my claymore hinging down to my heel. 
To whang at the bannocks o* barley-meal. 



SCOTS SONGS. 131 

I'll buy a fine prefent to bring to my dear, 
A pair of fine garters for Maggie to wear, 
And fome pretty things elfe, I do declare, 
When ihe gangs wi' me to Pailley fair. 
And whan we are married we'll keep a cow, 
My Maggie fall milk her, and I will plow : 
We'll live a' the winter on beef and lang-kail, 
And whang at the bannocks of barley-meaL 

If my Maggie (hou'd chance to bring me a fon, 
He's fight for his king, as his daddy has done; 
111 fend him to Flanders fome breeding to learn, 
Syne hame into Scotland and keep a farm. 
And thus we'll live and induflrious be. 
And wha'U be lae great as my Maggie and me? 
We'll foon grow as fat as a Norway feal, 
Wi' feeding on bannocks o* barley-meal. 

Adieu to you citizens every ane, 
Wha jolt in your coaches to Drury-lane; 
You bites of Bear-garden who fight for gains. 
And you fops who have got more wigs than brains; 
You cullies and bullies, I'll bid you adieu, 
For whoring and fwearing I'll leave it to you; 
Your woodcock and pheafant, your duck and your teal, 
I'll leave them for bannocks o' barley-meal. 

I'll leave aff kifling a citizen's wife, 
I'm fully refolVd for a country life ; 
KiiTing and toying, I'll fpend the lang day, 
Wi' bonny young lafTes on cocks of hay; 
Where each clever lad gives his bonny lafs 
A kifs and a tumble upo' the green grafs. 
Ill awa' to the Highlands as fafl's I can reel, 
And whang at the bannocks o' barley-meal. 



132 SCOTS SONGS 



No Dominies for me, laddie. 

TChanc'd to meet an airy blade, 

A new-made pulpiteer, laddie. 
With cock'd-up hat and powder'd wig, 

Black coat and cuffs fu' clear, laddie; 
A long cravat at him did wag, 

And buckles at his knee, laddie; 
Says he. My heart, by C u p i d's dart, 

Is captivate to thee, laffie. 

I'll rather chufe to thole grim death ; 

So ceafe and let me be, laddie : 
For what? fays he; Good troth, faid I, 

No dominies for me, laddie. 
Minillers* flipends are uncertain rents 

For ladies' conjun6l-fee, laddie ; 
When books and gowns are all cried down, 

No dominies for me, laddie. 

But for your fake I'll fleece the flock. 

Grow rich as I grow auld, laffie; 
If I be fpar'd 111 be a laird, 

And thou's be Madam call'd, laflie. 
But what if ye fhou'd chance to die, 

Leave bairns, ane or twa, laddie? 
Naething wad be referv'd for them 

But hair-moul'd books to gnaw, laddie. 

At this he angiy was, I wat. 

He gloom'd and look'd fu' high, laddie: 
When I perceived this, in hafle 

I left my dominie, laddie. 



SCOTS SONGS. 133 

Fare ye well, my charming maid, 

This leffon learn of me, laflie, 
At the next oflFer hold him fafl, 

That firfl makes love to thee, laflie. 

Then I returning hame again, 

And coming down the town, laddie, 
By my good luck I chanc'd to meet 

A gentleman dragoon, laddie; 
And he took me by baith the hands, 

'Twas help in time of need, laddie. 
Fools on ceremonies fland. 

At twa words we agreed, laddie. 

He led me to his quarter-houfe. 

Where we exchanged a word, laddie : 
We had nae ufe for black-gowns there, 

We married o'er the fword, laddie. 
Martial drums is mufic fine. 

Compared wi' tinkling bells, laddie; 
Gold, red and blue, is more divine 

Than black, the hue of hell, laddie. 

Kings, queens, and princes, crave the aid 

Of my brave flout dragoon, laddie; 
While dominies are much employed 

*Bout whores and fackloth gowns, laddie. 
Away wi' a' thefe whining loons ; 

They look like. Let me be, laddie: 
I've more delight in roaring guns; 

No dominies for me, laddie. 

Vol. II. M 



134 SCOTS SONGS. 



Jamie gay. 

AS Jamie gay gang'd blyth his way 
"^ Along the river Tweed, 
A bonny lafs as e^er was feen, 

Came tripping o'er the mead. 
The hearty fwain, untaught to feign, 

The buxom nymph fiirvey'd, 
And full of glee as lad could be, 

Befpoke the pretty maid. 

Dear Laflie tell, why by thinefell 

Thou hallly wand'rell here. 
My ewes, Ihe cry'd, are flrapng wide, 

Canll tell me, laddie, where ? 
To town 1*11 hie, he made reply, 

Some meikle fport to fee, 
But thou'rt fo fweet, fo trim and neat, 

I'll feek the ewes with thee. 

She gi*m her hand, nor made a fland. 

But lik'd the youth's intent; 
O'er hill and dale, o'er plain and vale 

Right merrily they went. 
The birds fang fweet, the pair to greet, 

And flowers bloom'd around ? 
And as they walk'd, of love they talk'd, 

And joys which lovers crown'd. 

And now the fun had rofe to noon, 

The zenith of his power. 
When to a fhade their fleps they made. 

To pafs the mid-day hour. 



SCOTS SONGS. 135 

The bonny lad rowd in his plaid 

The lafs, who fcom'd to frown; 
She foon forgot the ewes fhe fought, 

And he to gang to town. 



I've been Courting. 

T'V E been courting at a lafs 

Thefe twenty days and mair; 
Her father winna gi*e me her, 

She has lick a gleib of gear, 
But gin I had her where I wou'd 

Amang the hether here, 
I'd drive to win her kindnefs, 

For 2l her father's care. 

For Ihe's a bonny fonfy lafs. 

An armsfu', I fwear; 
I wou'd marry her without a coat, 

Or e'er a plack o' gear. 
For, trull me, when I, faw her firll, 

She gae me fick a wound, 
That a' the do6lors i' the earth 

Can never mak me found. 

For when Ihe's abfent frae my fight, 

I think upon her Hill; 
And when I lleep, or when I wake. 

She does my fenfes fill. 

M 2 



I 



136 SCOTS SONGS. 

May Heavens guard the bonny lafs 

That fweetens a* my life ; 
And fliame fa' me gin e'er I feek 1 

Anither for my wife. 



My Heart's my ain. 

'TH I S nae very lang fmfyne, 

That I had a lad of my ain; 
But now he's awa' to anither, 

And left me a' my lain. 
The lafs he's courting has filler 

And I hae nane at a' ; 
And 'tis nought but the love of the tocher 

That's tane my lad awa'. 

But I'm blyth, that my heart's my ain, 

And 111 keep it a' my life, 
Until that I meet wi' a lad 

Who has fenfe to wale a good wife. 
For though I fa/t myfell. 

That fhou'd nae fay't, 'tis true, 
The lad that gets me for a wife, 

Hell ne'er hae occafion to rue. 

I gang ay fou clean and fou tolh, 

As a' the neighbours can tell; 
Though I've feldom a gown on my back, 

But lick as I fpin myfell. 
And when I am clad in my curtfey, 

I think myfell as braw 
As S u s I E, wi' a' her pearling 

That's tane my lad awa'. 



■^ 



SCOTS SONGS. 137 

But I wifti they were buckled together, 

And may they live happy for life; 
Tho' Willie does flight me, and's left me, 

The chield he deferves a good wife. 
But, O ! I'm blyth that IVe mifs'd him, 

As blyth as I weel can be; 
For ane that's fae keen o' the filler 

Will ne'er agree wi' me. 

But as the truth is, I'm hearty, 

I hate to be fcrimpit or fcant; 
The wie thing I hae, I'll make ufe o't. 

And nae ane about me fliall want 
For I'm a good guide o' the warld, 

I ken when to ha'd and to gie; 
For whinging and cringing for filler 

Will ne'er agree wi' me. 

Contentment is better than riches. 

An' he wha has that has enough; 
The mafl.er is feldom fae happy 

As R o B I N that drives the plough. 
But if a young lad wou'd call up, 

To make me his partner for life; 
If the chield has the fenfe to be happy, 

He'll fa' on his feet for a wife. 



My Wife's ta'en the Gee. 

A Friend of mine came here yeftreen, 

And he wou'd hae me down 
To drink a bottle of ale wi' him 
In the niefl borrows town. 

M 3 



138 SCOTS SONGS 

But, O ! indeed, it was, Sir, 

Sae far the war for me; 
For lang or e'er that I came hame, 

My wife had ta*en the gee. 

We fat fae late, and drank fae (lout. 

The truth I tell to you, 
That lang or e'er midnight came. 

We were a* roaring fou. 
My wife fits at the fire-fide; 

And the tear blinds ay her ee. 
The ne'er a bed will flie gae to; 

But fit and tak the gee. 

In the morning foon, when I came down, 

The ne'er a word Ihe fpake ; 
But mony a fad and four look. 

And ay her head fhe*d fhake. 
My dear, quoth I, what aileth thee. 

To look fae four on me ? 
I'll never do the like again. 

If you'll never tak the gee. 

When that flie heard, (he ran, flie flang 

Her arms about my neck; 
And twenty kiffes in a crack, 

And, poor wee thing, (he grat. 
If youll ne'er do the like again. 

But bide at hame wi' me, 
I'll lay my life Ife be the wife 

That's never tak the gee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 139 



Wallifou fa' the Cat 

T^ HERE was a bonnie wi' laddie, 

Was keeping a bonny whine flieep; 
There was a bonnie wee laffie, 

Was wading the water fae deep, 
Was wading the water fae deep. 

And a little above her knee ; 
The laddie cries unto the laflie, 

Come down Tweedfide to me. 

And when I gade down Tweed-fide, 

I heard, I dinna ken what, 
I heard ae wife fay f anither, 

Wallifou fa* the cat; 
Wallifou fa' the cat. 

She's bred the houfe an wan eafe. 
She's opened the am'ry door. 

And eaten up a' the cheefe. 

She's eaten up a' the cheefe, 

O' the kebbuk (he's no left a bit; 
She's dung down the bit fkate on the brace. 

And 'tis fa'en in the fowen kit; 
'Tis out o' the fowen kit. 

And 'tis into the mai(ler-can; 
It will be fae fiery fa't, 

'Twill poifon our goodman. 



1 



I40 SCOTS SONGS. 



Here awa\ there awa*. 

TJ ERE awa', there awa\ here awa' Willie, 

Here awa', there awa', here awa' hame; 
Lang have I fought thee, dear have I bought thee, 
Now I have gotten my Willie again. 

Thro' the lang muir I have followed my W i l l i e, 
Thro* the lang muir I have followed him hame, 
Whatever betide us, nocht Ihall divide us; 
Love now rewards all my forrow and pain. 

Here awa', there awa', here awa', Willie, 
Here awa', there awa', here awa' hame. 
Come Love, believe me, nothing can grieve me. 
Ilka thing pleafes while WiLLiE'sat hame. 

Drap of Capie O. 

T^ HERE liv'd a wife in our gate-end, 

She lo'ed a drap of capie —O, 
And all the gear that e'er fhe gat. 
She llipt it in her gabie--0. 

Upon a frofty winter's night. 

The wife had got a drapie— O, 
And Ihe had pilh'd her coats fae weil, 

She could not find the patie— O. 

But (he's awa' to her goodman. 
They ca'dhim Tamie Lamie-0. 

Gae ben and fetch the cave to me, 
That I may get a dramie — O. 



SCOTS SONGS. 141 

T A M I E was an honefl man, 

Himfelf he took a drapie— O; 
It was nae well out o'er his craig, 

Till fhe was on his tapie— O. 

She paid him weil, baith back and fide, 

And fair fhe creiih'd his backie— O, 
And made his (kin baith blue and black. 

And gar'd his ihoulders crackie— O. 

Then he's awa' to the malt bam. 

And he has ta'en a pockie— O, 
He put her in, baith head and tail, 

And call her o'er his backie— O. 

The carling fpum'd wi' head and feet. 

The carle he was fae ackie— O, 
To ilka wall that he came by, 

He gar'd her head play knackie— O. 

Goodman, I think you'll murder me, 

My brains you out will knockie— O, 
He gi'd her ay the other hitch. 

Lie flill, you devil's buckie— O. 

Goodman, I'm like to make my bum, 

O let me out, good Tami e — O; 
Then he fet her upon a (lane. 

And bade herpifh a damie — O. 

Then T a m i e took her aff the (lane. 

And put her in the pockie— O, 
And when (he did begin to fpum. 

He lent her ay a knockie— O. 

Awa} he went to the mill-dam. 
And there ga'e her a duckie— O, 



142 SCOTS SONGS. 

And ilka chiel that had a flick, 
Play'd thump upon her backie — O. 

And when he took her hame again, 
He did hing up the pockie— O, 

At her bed-fide, as I hear fay, 
Upon a Uttle knagie— O. 

And ilka day that fhe up-i-ofe. 
In naithing but her fmockie— O, 

Sae foon as Ihe look'd o'er the bed, 
She might behold the pockie— O. 

Now all ye men, baith far and near, 
That have a dnmken tutie— O, 

Duck you your wives in time of year, 
And 111 lend you the pockie— O. 

The wife did live for nineteen years. 
And was fu' frank and cuthie— O, 

And ever fmce (he got the duck, 
She never had the drouthie— O. 

At lafl the carling chanc'd to die. 
And T A M I E did her bury— O, 

And for the publick benefit, 

He has gar'd print the curie— O. 

And this he did her motto make; 

Here lies an honed luckie— O, 
Who never left the drinking trade, 

Until fhe got a duckie— O. 



SCOTS SONGS. 143 



Willie Winkie's Teftament 

"\TY daddy left me gear enough, 

A couter, and an auld beam-plough, 
A nebbed llaff, a nutting-tyne, 
A filhing wand with hook and line; 
With twa auld ftools, and a dirt-houfe, 
A jerkenet fcarce worth a loufe, 
An auld patt, that wants the lug, 
A fpurtle and a fowen mug. 

A h'empken heckle, and a mell, 
A tar-horn, and a weather's bell, 
A muck-fork, and an auld peet-creel. 
The fpakes of our auld fpinning-wheel. 
A pair of branks, yea, and a faddle. 
With our auld brunt and broken laddie; 
A whang-bit, and a fniffle-bit; 
Chear up, my bairns, and dance a fit. 

A flailing-ftaff and a timmer fpit. 
An auld kirn, and a hole in it, 
Yam-winnles, and a reel, 
A fetter-lock, a trump of Heel, 
A whiflle, and a tup-horn fpoon, 
With an auld pair of clouted ihoon, 
A timmer fpade, and a gleg fluar, 
A bonnet for my bairns to wear. 

A timmer tong, a broken cradle. 
The pillion of an auld car-faddle, 
A gullie-knife, and a horfe-wand, 
A mitten for the left hand, 



144 SCOTSSONGS. i 

With an auld broken pan of brafs, 
With an auld fark that wants the arfe, 
An auld-band, and a hoodUng how, 
I hope, my bairns, ye're a weil now. 

Aft have I borne ye on my back, 
With a' this riff-raff in my pack; 
And it was a' for want o' gear. 
That gart me (leal Mefs John's grey mare : 
But now, my bairns, what ails ye now? 
For ye ha'e naigs enough to plow; 
And hofe and fhoon fit for your feet, 
Chear up, my bairns, and dinna greet 

Then with myfel I did advife. 
My daddy's gear for to comprize; 
Some neighbours I ca'd in to fee 
What gear my daddy left to me. 
They fat three quarters of a year. 
Comprizing of my daddy's gear; 
And when they had gi'en a' their votes, 
'Twas fcarcely a' worth four pounds Scots. 



The Ploughman. 

T^ H E ploughman he's a bonny lad, 

And a' his wark's at leifure. 
And when that he comes hame at ev'n, 
He kiffes me wi' pleafure. 

Up wit now^ my ploughman lad, 
Up wi^t now, my ploughman ; 
Of c^ the lads that I do fee, 
Commend me to the ploughman. 



SCOTS SONGS. 145 

Now the blooming fpring comes on, 

He takes his yoking early, 
And whiftling o'er the furrow'd land, 

He goes to fallow clearly; 
Up wit now, &c 

Whan my ploughman comes hame at ev'n, 

He's often wet and weary; 
Call aflf the wet, put on the dry. 

And gae to bed, my deary. 
Up wit now, &c. 

I will walh my ploughman's hofe, 

And I will walh his o'erlay. 
And I will make my ploughman's bed. 
And chear him late and early. 
Merry butt, and merry hen, 
Merry is my ploughman; 
Ofci the trades that I do ken. 
Commend me to the ploughman. 

Plough you hill, and plough you dale. 

Plough you faugh and fallow, 
Who winna drink the ploughman's health, 

Is but a dirty fellow. 
Merry butt, and, &c. 



The Tailor. 

T^HE tailor came to clout the claife, 

Sick a braw fellow, 
He fill'd the houfe a' fou of fleas, 
Baffin down, and daliin down. 
Vol. H. (io) N 



146 SCOTS SONGS. 

He fiird the houfe a' fou of fleas, 
Daffin down and dilly. 

The laflie flept ayont the fire, 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
Oh! Ihe was a' his heart's defire; 

Daffin down, and daffin down; 
Oh ! fhe was a! his heart's defire : 

Daffin down and dilly. 

The laffie Ihe fell faft afleep; 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
The tailor clofe to her did creep; 

Daffin down, and daffin down; 
The tailor clofe to her did creep; 

Daffin down and dilly. 

The laffie waken'd in a fright; 

Sic a braw hiffey! 
Her maidenhead had taen the flight; 

Daffin down, and daifin down; 
Her maidenhead had taen the flight; 

Daffin down and dilly. 

She fought it butt, (he fought it ben; 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
And in beneath the clocken-hen; 

Daffin down, and daffin down; 
And in beneath the clocken-hen; 

Daffin down and dilly. 

She fought it in the owfen-flaw; 

Sic a braw hiffey! 
No, faith, quo' fhe, it's quite awa'; 

Daffin down, and daffin down; 



SCOTS SONGS. 147 

Na, faith, quo' ihe, it's quite awa'; 
Baffin down and dilly. 

She fought it *yont the knocking flane; 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
Some day, quo' fhe, 'twill gang its lane; 

Baffin down, and daffin down; 
Some day, quo' ihe, 'twill gang its lane; 

Baffin down and dilly. 

She ca'd the taylor to the court; 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
And a' the young men round about; 

Baffin down, and daffin down : 
And a' the young men round about; 

Baffin down and dilly. 

She gard the tailor pay a fine; 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
Gie me my maidenhead agen; 

Baffin down, and daffin down; 
Gie me my maidenhead agen; 

Baffin down and dilly. 

O what way wad ye hae't agen? 

Sic a braw hiffey ! 
Oh! jull the way that it was taen; 

Baffin down, and daffin down; 
Oh! jull the way that it was taen; 

Baffin down and dilly. 



N 2 



148 SCOTS SONGS 



The maid gaed to the Mill. 

T^HE maid's gane to the mill by night, 

Hech hey, fae wanton; 
The maid's gane to the mill by night, 

Hey fae wanton (he; 
She's fwom by moon and flars fae bright, 
That Ihe fhould hae her com ground. 
That (he (hould hae her com ground. 

Mill and multure free. 

Out then came the miller's man, 

Hech hey, fae wanton ; 
Out then came the miller's man. 

Hey fae wanton he; 
He fware he'd do the befl he can. 
For to get her com ground, 
For to get her corn ground, 

Mill and multure free. 

He put his hand about her neck, 

Hech hey, fae wanton; 
He put his hand about her neck. 

Hey fae wanton he; 
He dang her down upon a fack. 
And there (he got her corn ground, 
And there (he got her com ground, 

Mill and multure free. 

When other maids gaed out to play, 

Hech hey, fae wanton; 
When other maids gaed out to play, 

Hey fae wantonlie; 



SCOTS SONGS. 149 

She figh'd and fobb'd, and wadnae flay, 
Becaufe (he'd got her com ground, 
Becaufe (he'd got her com ground. 
Mill and multure free. 

When forty weeks were pail and gane, 

Hech hey, sae wanton : 
When forty weeks were pa(l and gane, 

Hey fae wantonlie; 
This maiden had a braw lad-baim, 
Becaufe (he'd got her com ground, 
Becaufe (he'd got her com ground. 

Mill and multure free. 

Her mither bade her ca(l it out, 

Hech hey, lae wanton; 
Her mither bade her cafl it out, 

Hey fae wantonlie ; 
It was the miller's dufly clout, 
For getting of her com ground, 
For getting of her com ground, 

Mill and multure free. 

Her father bade her keep it in, 

Hech hey, fae wanton; 
Her father bade her keep it in. 

Hey fae wantonlie. 
It was the chief of a' her kin, 
Becaufe fhe'd got her com ground, 
Becaufe fhe'd got her com ground, 

Mill and multure free. 



N3 



ISO SCOTS SONGS. 

The briik young Lad. 

T^ HERE came a young man to my daddie's door, 

My daddie's door, my daddie's door, 
There came a yomig man to my daddie's door. 
Came feeking me to woo. 
And wow hut he was a braiv young lady 
A hrijk young lad^ and a draw young lad, 
And wow but he was a braw young lad. 
Came feeking me to woo. 

But I was baking when he came, 
When he came, when he came; 
I took him in and gae him a fcone, 
To thow his frozen mou*. 
And wow but, &c. 

I fet him in afide the bink, 
I gae him bread, and ale to drink. 
And ne'er a blyth fl)rme wad he blink, 
Until his wame was fou. 
And wow but, &c. 

Gae, get ye gone, ye cauldrife wooer. 
Ye four-looking, cauldrife wooer, 
I flraightway fhow'd him to the door, 
Saying, Come nae mair to woo. 
And wow but, &c. 

There lay a duck-dub before the door. 
Before the door, before the door. 
There lay a duck-dub before the door, 
And there fell he, I trow. 
And wow but, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 151 

Out came the goodman, and high he (houted, 
Out came the goodwife, and low ihe louted, 
And 2l the town-neighbours were gathered about it, 
And there lay he I trow. 
And wow buty &c. 

Then out came I, and fneer'd and fmird, 
Ye came to woo, but ye're a' beguil'd, 
Ye'ave fa'en i' the dirt, and ye're a' befyl'd. 
Well hae nae mair of you. 
And wow but, &c. 



The Surprife. 

T Had a horfe, and I had nae mair, 

I gat him frae my daddy; 
My purfe was light, and my heart was fair. 

But my wit it was fu' ready. 
And fae I thought upon a wile, 

Outwittens of my daddy. 
To fee myfell to a lowland laird, 

Who had a bonny lady. 

I wrote a letter, and thus began, 

Madam, be not offended, 
I'm o'er the Jugs in love wi' you, 

And care not tho' ye kend it. 
For I get little frae the laird. 

And far lefs frae my daddy. 
And I would blythly be the man 

Would flrive to pleafe my lady. 



152 SCOTS SONGS. 

She read my letter, and (he leuch, 

Ye needna been fae blate, man; 
You might hae come to me yourfell, 

And tald me o' your (late man : 
Ye might hae come to me yourfell, 

Outwittens of your daddy, 
And made John GoucKSTONofthe laird, 
. And kifs'd his bonny lady. 

Then (he pat filler in my purfe, 

We drank wine in a cogie; 
She fee'd a man to rub my horfe, 

And wow but I was vogie : 
But I gat ne'er fae fair a fleg 

Since I came frae my daddy, 
The laird came rap rap to the yate. 

Whan I was wi' his lady. 

Then (he pat me below a chair. 

And hap'd me wi* a plaidie; 
But I was like to fwarf with fear. 

And wi(h'd me wi' my daddy. 
The laird went out, he faw na me, 

I went whan I was ready: 
I promised, but I ne'er gade back 

To fee his bonny lady. 



The Mariner's Wife. 

"DUT are you fure the news is true? 

And are you fure he's weel? 
Is this a time to think o' wark? 
Ye jades, fling by your wheel. 



SCOTS SONGS. 153 

Theris nae huk about the houfe^ 

Therms nae luck at a\ 
Therms nae luck about the houfe 

When our goodmatis awa\ 

Is this a time to think of wark, 

When C o L I n's at the door? 
Rax me my cloak, I'll down the key, 

And fee him come afhore. 
Therms nae luck, &c. 

Rife up, and mak a clean fire-fide. 

Put on the muckle pat; 
Gie little Kate her cotton gown, 

And J o c K his Sunday's coat. 
Therms nae luck, &c. 

Mak their Ihoon as black as ilaes 

Their llockings white as fnaw; 
It's a' to pleafure our goodman. 

He likes to fee them braw. 
Therms nae luck, &c 

There are twa hens into the crib, 

Have fed this month and mair, 
Make hafle and thraw their necks about, 

That Colin weil may fare. 
Therms nae luck, &c. 

Bring down to me my bigonet, 

My bifliop-fattin gownj 
And then gae tell the Bailie's wife. 

That C o L I n's come to town. 
Therms nae luck, &c. 



154 SCOTS SONGS 

My Turkey flippers I'll put on, 

My (lockings pearl blue, 
And a* to pleafure our goodman, 

For he's baith leel and true. 
Tliere^s nae luck, &c. 

Sae fweet his voice, fae fmooth his tongue, 

His breath's like cauler air, 
His very tread has mufic in't 

As he comes up the Hair. 
Therms nae luck, &a 

And will I fee his face again. 

And will I hear him fpeak? 
I'm downright dizzy with the joy. 

In troth I'm like to greet ! 
Therms nae luck, &c. 



The Gawkie. 

"D LYTH young Bess to Jean did fay, 
WiU ye gang to yon funny brae. 

Where flocks do feed, and herds do ftray, 
And fport a while wi' J a m i e? 

Ah na, lafs, I'll no gang there. 
Nor about J a m i e tak nae care, 
Nor about Jamie tak nae care ; 

For he's ta'en up wi' M a g g i E. 

For hark, and I wiU tell you, lafs, 
Did I not fee your Jamie pafs, 



SCOTS SONGS. iss 

Wi* muckle gladnefs in his face, 

Out o'er the muir to Maggie. 
I wat he gae her mony a kifs, 
And Maggie took them ne'er amifs ; 
Tween ilka fmack pleas'd her wi' this, 

That Bess was but a gawkie. 

For whenever a civil kifs I feek, 

She turns her head, and thraws her cheek, 

And for an hour fhe'U fcarcely fpeak ; 

Who'd not ca' her a gawkie? 
But fure my Maggie has mair fenfe. 
She'll gie a fcore without offence : 
Now gi'e me ane unto the menfe, 

And ye fhall be my dawtie. 

O J A M I e, ye hae mony tane, 
But I will never fland for ane 
Or twa, when we do meet again, 

Sae ne'er think me a gawkie. 
Ah na, lafs, that can ne'er be. 
Sick thoughts as thefe are far frae me, 
Or ony thy fweet face that fee, 

E'er to think thee a gawkie. 

But, whifh't, nae mair of this we'll fpeak, 
For yonder Jamie does us meet; 
Inflead of M e G he kifs'd fae fweet, 
I trow he likes the gawkie. 

dear Bess, I hardly knew. 

When I came by, your gown's fae new, 

1 think you've got it wat wi' dew. 

Quoth fhe. That's like a gawkie. 



156 SCOTS SONGS. 

It's wat wi' dew, and 'twill get rain, 
And 111 get gowns when it is gane, 
Sae ye may gang the gate ye came. 

And tell it to yom* dawtie. 
The guilt appeared in J a m i e's cheek, 
He cr/d, O cruel maid, but fweet, 
If I Ihould gang another gate, 

I ne'er could meet my dawtie. 

The lafles fall frae him they flew, 
And left poor Jamie fair to rue. 
That ever Maggie's face he knew. 

Or yet ca'd B e s s a gawkie. 
As they gade o'er the muir they lang. 
The hills and dales with echoes rang. 
The hills and dales with echoes rang. 

Gang o'er the muir to M a g g i e. 



The Shepherd's Son. 

'X' HERE was a ihepherd's fon, 

Kept fheep upon a hill. 
He laid his pipe and crook afide, 
And there he flept his fill. 
Singy Fal deral, &c. 

He looked eall, he looked weft. 

Then gave an under-look. 
And there he fpied a lady fair. 

Swimming in a brook. 
Singy Falderal, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 157 

He rais'd his head frae his green bed, 

And then approached the maid, 
Put on your daiths, my dear, he fays, 

And be ye not afraid. 
Sing^ Fal deralj &c. 

'Tis fitter for a lady fair. 

To few her filken feam, 
Than to get up in a May morning, 

And flrive againfl the flream. 
Singy Fal derail &c 

If youll not touch my mantle. 

And let my daiths alane; 
Then I'll give you as much money, 

As you can carry hame. 
Singy Fal deraly &c. 

1 111 not touch your mantle, 

And I'll let your daiths alane; 
But 111 tak you out of the clear water. 

My dear, to be my ain. 
Singy Fal deraly &c. 

And when fhe out of the water came, 

He took her in his arms; 
Put on your daiths, my dear, he fays, 

And hide thofe lovely charms. 
Singy Fal deraly &c. 

He mounted her on a milk-white Heed, 

Himfelf upon anither; 
And all along the way they rode. 

Like filler and like brither. 
Singy Fal deraly &c. 

Vol. IL O 



158 SCOTS SONGS 

When fhe came to her father's yate, 

She tirled at the pin; 
And ready flood the porter there, 

To let this fair maid in. 
Sing, Fal deral, &c. 

And when the gate was opened, 

So nimbly's ihe wTiipt in ; 
Pough ! you're a fool without, fhe fays, 

And I'm a maid within. 
Singy FcU deral^ &c. 

Then fare ye well, my modefl boy, 

I thank you for your caire; 
But had you done what you fhould do, 

I ne'er had left you there. 
Sing^ Fal deral, &c. 

Oh! I'll cafl aflf my hofe and fhoon, 

And let my feet gae bare. 
And gin I meet a bonny lafs. 

Hang me, if her I fpare. 
Singy Fal deraly &c. 

In that do as you pleafe, fhe fays. 

But you fhall never more 
Have the fame opportunity; 

With that fhe fhut the door. 
Singy Fal derail &c. 

There is a gude auld proverb, 

I've often heard it told. 
He that would not when he might, 

He fhould not when he would. 
Singy Fal deral, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. IS9 



Get up and bar the Door. 

TT fell about the Martinmas time, 

And a gay time it was then, 
When our goodwife got puddings to make, 
And (he's boil'd them in the pan. 

The wind fae cauld blew fouth and north. 

And blew into the floor: 
Quoth our goodman, to our goodwife, 

" Gae out and bar the door." 

" My hand is in my huff/f fkap, 

Goodman, as ye may fee. 
An it ihou'd nae be barr'd this hundred year. 

Its no be barred for me." 

They made a padtion 'tween them twa. 

They made it firm and fure; 
That the firfl word whae'er Ihould fpeak, 

Shou'd rife and bar the door. 

Then by there came two gentlemen, 

At twelve o'clock at night, 
And they could neither fee houfe nor hall, 

Nor coal nor candle light 

Now, whether is this a rich man's houfe. 

Or whether is it a poor? 
But never a word wad ane o' them fpeak, 

For barring of the door. 

And firll they ate the white puddings, 
And then they ate the black; • 

02 



i6o SCOTS SONGS. 

Though muckle thought the goodwife to herfel, 
Yet ne'er a word Ihe fpake. 

Then faid the one unto the other, 

" Here, man, tak ye my knife. 
Do ye tak aflf the auld man's beard, 

And 111 kifs the goodwife." 

" But there's nae water in the houfe, 

And what Ihall we do than?" 
"What ails ye at the pudding broo. 

That boils into the pan?" 

O up then llarted our goodman. 

An angry man was he ; 
" Will ye kifs my wife before my een, 

And fcald me wi' pudding bree?" 

Then up and flatted our goodwife, 
Gied three Ikips on the floor; 
Goodman, you've fpoken the foremofl word. 
Get up and bar the door." 



it 



Had awa' frae me, DONALD.- 

r\ WILL you hae ta tartan plaid. 

Or will you hae ta ring, Mattam? 
Or will you hae ta kifs o' me? 

And dats ta pretty ting, Mattam. 
Had awa', bide awa'. 

Had awa' frae me, Donald; 
111 neither kifs nor hae a ring, 

Nae tartan plaids for me, Donald. 



SCOTS SONGS. i6i 

O fee you not her ponny progues, 

Her fecket plaid, plew, creen, Mattam? 
Her twa fhort hofe, and her twa fpoigs, 

And a fhoulter-pelt apeen, Mattam? 
Had awa', bide awaV 

Had awa' fra me, Donald; 
Nae ihoulder belts, nae trinkabouts, 

Nae tartan hofe for me, Donald. 

Hur can pefhaw a petter hough 

Tan him wha wears ta crown, Mattam; 
Herfell hae pillol and claymore 

To flie ta lallant lown, Mattam. 
Had awa*, had awa*, 

Had awa' frae me, Donald; 
For a! your houghs and warlike arms, 

You're no a match for me, Donald. 

Hurfell hae a fhort coat pi pote. 

No trail my feets at rin, Mattam; 
A cutty fark of good ham Iheet, 

My mitter he be fpin, Mattam. 
Had awa', had awa'. 

Had awa' frae me, Donald; 
Gae hame and hap your naked houghs, 

And falh nae mair wi* me, Donald. 

Ye's neir pe pidden work a turn 

At ony kind o* fpin, Mattam, 
But ihug your lenno in a scull. 

And tidel highland fmg, Mattam. 
Had awa', had awa*. 

Had awa*, frae me, Donald; 

(") O 3 



i62 SCOTS SONGS. 

Your jogging fculls and highland fang 
Will found but harlh wi' me, Donald. 

In ta morning when him rife 

Ye*s get frefh whey for tea, Mattam; 
Sweet milk an ream as much you pleafe. 

Far cheaper tan pohea, Mattam. 
Had awa', had awa', 

Had awa' frae me, Donald; 
I winna quit my morning's tea, 

Your whey will ne'er agree, Donald. 

Haper Gallic ye's be learn, 

And tats ta ponny fpeak, Mattam; 
Ye*s get a cheefe, an putter-kirn. 

Come wi' me kin ye like, Mattam. 
Had awa*, had awa'. 

Had awa' frae me, Donald; 
Your Gallic and your Highland chear 

Will ne'er gae down wi' me, Donald. 

Fait ye's pe ket a filder proch 

Pe pigger then the moon, Mattam ; 
Ye's ride in curroch Head o* coach, 

An wow put yell pe fine, Mattam. 
Had awa', had awa'. 

Had awa* frae me, Donald; 
For a! your Highland rarities, 

YouVe not a match for me, Donald. 

What's tis ta way tat ye'll pe kind, 
To a protty man like me, Mattam? 

Sae langs cla)rmore pe 'po my fide, 
I'll nefer marry tee, Mattam. 



SCOTS SONGS. 163 

* 

come awa', run awa', 

O come awa' wi' me, Donald; 

1 wadna quit my Highland man ; 

Frae Lallands fet me free, Donald. 



The Dreg Song. 

T R A D E to London yellerday 

On a crucket hay-cock. 
Hay-cock, quo* the feale to the eel, 
Cock nae I my tail weel? 
Tail-weel, or if hare, 
Hunt the dog frae the deer, 
Himt the dog frae the deil-drum; 
Kend yenaJoHNv Young? 
John Young and John Auld 
Strove about the moniefald; 
JemmyJimp and JennyJeus 
Bought a pair of jimp deus, 
Wi' nineteen Hand of feet; 
Kend ye nae white breek? 
White breek and Heel pike, 
Kifs't the lafs behind the dyke, 
Kifs't the lafs behind the dyke, 
And Ihe whalpet a bairnie; 
Hey hou Harry, Harry, 
Mony a boat Ikail'd the ferry, 
Mony a boat, mony a ihip; 
Tell me a true note ; 
True note, true fong, 
IVe dreg'd o'er long. 



1 



i64 SCOTS SONGS 

O'er lang, o'er late, 

Quo' the haddock to the fcate, 

Quo' the fcate to the eel, 

Cock na I my tail weel? 

Tail weel, and gins better, 

It's written in a letter : 

Andrew Murray faid to Meg, 

How many hens hae you wi' egg? 

Steek the door and thraw the crook, 

Grape you and I'fe look; 

Put in your finger in her dock, 

And fee gin fhe lays thereout. 

She lays thereout days ane, 

Sae dis he days twa. 

Say dis he days three, 

Sae dis he days four. 

Quo' the carle o' Aberdour; 

Aberdour, Aberdeen, 

Grey claith to the green, 

Grey claith to the fands, 

Trip it, trip it through the lands; 

Thro' lands, or if hare, 

Hunt the dog frae the deer. 

Hunt the deer frae the dog, 

Waken, waken, Willie Tod, 

Willie Tod, Willie Tay, 

Cleckit in the month of May, 

Month of May and Averile, 

Good fkill o' raifms, 

Jentlens and fentlens, 

Jeery ory alie ; 

Weel row'd five men, 

As weel your ten, 



SCOTS SONGS. 165 

The oyflers axe a gentle kin, 
They winna tak unlefs you fmg. 
Come buy my 0)rflers aflf the bing, 
To ferve the iheriflf and the king, ' 
And the commons o' the land. 
And the commons o' the fea; 
Hey benedicete, and that's good Latin. 



rU chear up my heart. 

A S I was a walking ae May-morning, 

Thefidlers and youngllers were making their game; 
And there I faw my faithlefs lover, 
And a' my forrows returned again. 

Well, fince he is gane, joy gang wi' him; 
It's never be he fhall gar me complain : 
I'll chear up my heart, and I will get another, 
I'll never lay a' my love upon ane. 

I could na get fleeping yellreen for weeping, 
The tears ran down like fhowers o' rain; 
An' had na I got greiting my heart wad a broken; 
And O ! but love's a tormenting pain. 

But fince he is gane, may joy gae wi' him, 
It's never be he that fhall gar me complain, 
I'll chear up my heart, and I will get another; 
I'll never lay a* my love upon ane. 

When I gade into my mither's new houfe, 
I took my wheel and fate down to fpin; 
'Twas there I firfl began my thrift; 
And a' the wooers came linking in. 



i66 SCOTS SONGS. 

It was gear he was feeking, but gear he*ll na get; 
And its never be he that Ihall gar me complain, 
For I'll chear up my heart, and I'll foon get another; 
111 never lay a' my love upon ane. 



Robin Red-breaft. 

^ U D E day now, bonny Robin, 
How lang have you been here? 
O I have been bird about this bulh, 
This mair then twenty year ! 

But now I am the fickefl bird. 

That ever fat on brier; 
And I wad make my teflament, 

Goodman, if ye wad hear. 

Gar tak this bonny neb o' mine, 

That picks upon the com; 
And gie't to the Duke of Hamilton 

To be a hunting-horn. 

Gar tak thefe bonny feathers o' mine, 

The feathers o' my neb; 
And gie to the Lady o* Hamilton 

To fill a feather-bed. 

Gar tak this gude right-leg o' mine. 
And mend the brig o' Tay; 

It will be a poll, and pillar gude; 
It will neither bow nor 

And tak this other leg o' mine, 
And mend the brig o' Weir ! 



SCOTS SONGS. 167 

It will be a pod and pillar gude; 
It'll neither bow nor (leer. 

Gar tak thefe bonny feathers o' mine, 

The feathers o* my tail ; 
And gie to the lads o' Hamilton 

To be a bam-flaiL 

And tak thefe bonny feathers o' mine, 

The feathers o* my breafl; 
And gie to ony bonny lad 

Thaf 11 bring to me a priell. 

Now in there came my Lady Wren, 

With mony a figh and groan; 
O what care I for a' the lads, 

If my wee lad be gone? 

Then Robin tum'd him romid about, 

E'en like a little king; 
Go, pack ye out at my chamber-door, 

Ye little cutty quean. 



Let me in this ae night. 

r\ L A s s I E, art thou fleeping yet; 
Or are you waking I would wit? 

For love has bound me hand and foot. 

And I would fain be in, jo. 
O let me in this ae nighty this ae, ae, ae night, 
O let me in this ae nigJii, and Pll nier come back again Jo, 

The mom it is the term-day, 
I maun away, I caima flay, 



i68 SCOTS SONGS. 

O ! pity me before I gae, 
And rife and let me in, jo. 
O let me, &c. 

The night it is baith cauld and weet; 
The mom it will be fnaw and fleet, 
My flioon are frozen to my feet, 
Wi' Handing on the plain, jo. 

let me, &c. 

1 am the laird o* windy-wa's, 

I come na here without a caufe, 
And I hae gotten mony fa's 
Upon a naked wame, jo. 
O let me, &c. 

My father's walking on the flreet. 

My mither the chamber-keys does keep; 

My chamber-door does chirp and cheep. 

And I dare. nae let you in, jo. 
O gae your ways this ae night, this ae, ae, ae night, 
O gae your ways this ae night, for I dare nae let you in, jo. 

But I'll come flealing laftly in, 
And cannilymake little din; 
And then the gate to you I'll find. 
If you'll but diredl me in, jo. 
O let me in, &c. 

Call aff the ihoen frae aff your fee, 

Cafl back the door up to the weet; 

Syne into my bed you may creep. 

And do the thing you ken, jo. 
O wells me on this ae night, this ae, ae, ae night, 
O wells me on this ae night, that ere I let you in, jo. 



\ 




SCOTS SONGS. 169 

She let him in fae cannily, 
She let him in fae privily, 
She let him in fae cannily, 
To do thing you ken, jo. 
O weUs me, &c 

But ere a' was done, and a' was faid, 

Out fell the bottom of the bed; 

The laffie loll her maidenhead. 

And her mither heard the din, jo. 
O the devil take this ae night, this ae, ae, ae night, 
O the devil take this ae night, that ere I let you in, jo. 



Hallow Fair. Tune, Fy let us oH to the Bridal 

HPHere's fouth of braw Jockies and Jennys 

Comes weel-bulked into the fair. 
With ribbons on their cockemonies, 

And fouth o' fine flour on their hair. 
Maggie Ihe was fae well bulked, 

That Willie was ty'd to his bride ; 
The pounie was ne'er better whilked 
Wi' cudgel that hang frae his fide. 
Singfarrel, &c. 

But Maggie was wondrous jealous 

To fee Wi L L I E bulked fae braw j 
And Sawney he fat in the alehoufe, 

And hard at the liquor did caw. 
There was G e o r d y that well loVd his laflie, 

He touk the pint-lloup in his arms. 
Vol. n. P 



I/O SCOTS SONGS. 

And hugg'd it, and laid, Trouth they're faucy 
That loos nae a good fether's bairn. 
Singfarrel, &c. 

There was Wa t t i e the muirland laddie, 

That rides on the bonny grey cout. 
With fword by his fide like a cadie. 

To drive in the Iheep and the knout 
Hisjdoublet fae weel it did fit him, 

It fcarcely came down to mid thigh, 
With hair pouther'd, hatt and a feather. 

And houfing at courpon and tee. 
Singfarrely &c. 

But bruckie play*d boo to baufie. 

And aff fcour'd the cout like the win' : 
Poor W A T T I E he fell in the caufie, 

And birs'd a' the bains in his Ikin. 
His piflols fell out of the hulflers. 

And were a' bedaubed with dirt; 
The folks they came round him in cluflers, 

Some leugh, and cry'd. Lad, was you hurt? 
Singfarrelj &c 

But cout wad let nae body fleer him, 

He was ay lae wanton and Ikeegh; 
The packmans flands he o'ertum'd them, 

And gard a' the J o c k s flands a-beech ; 
Wi' fniring behind and before him. 

For fie is the metal of brutes : 
Poor Wa t t i e, and wae's me for him, 

Was fain to gang hame in his boots. 
Sing farrd, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 171 

Now it was late in the ev'ning, 

And boughting-time was drawing near: 
The laffes had ftench'd their greening 

With fouth of braw apples and beer. 
There was L i l li e, and Ti b b i e, and S i B b i e, 

And C E I c Y on the fpinnell could fpin, 
Stood glowring at iigns and glafs winnocks, 

But deil a ane bade them come in. 
Singfarrdy &c. 

God guide's ! law you ever the like o' it? 

See yonder's a bonny black fwan; 
It glowrs as't wad fain be at us; 

What's yon that it hads in its hand? 
Awa, daft gouk, cries Wa t t i e, 

They're a' but a rickle of flicks j 
See there is B i l l, Jo c k, and auld H a c k i e, 

And yonder's Mefs John and auld Nick. 
Singfarrel, &c 

Quoth Maggie, Come buy us our fairing : 

And W A T T I E right fleely cou'd tell, 
I think thou're the flower of the claughing, 

In trouth now I'fe gie you my fell. 
But wha wou'd e'er thought it o' him, 

That e'er he had rippled the lint? 
Sae proud was he o' his M a o g i e, 

Tho' Ihe did baith fcalie and fquint. 
Singfarreiy &c. 



P 2 



1/2 SCOTS SONGS. 



r\ U R goodman came hame at e'en, 

And hame came he : 

And then he law a faddle horfe, 

Where nae horfe fliould be. 

O how came this horfe here? 

How can this be? 
How came this horfe here, I 

Without the leave o' me? 

A horfe ! quo' Ihe : 
Ay, a horfe, quo' he. 
Ye auld blind dotard carl, , 

Blind mat ye be, 
'Tis naething but a bonny milk cow 
My minny fent to me. 

A bonny milk cow! quo' he; 
Ay, a milk cow, quo' Ihe. 
Far hae I ridden, / 

And meikle hae I feen, 
But a faddle on a cow's back. 
Saw I never nane. 

Our goodman came hame at e'en, 

And hame came he. 
He fp/d a pair of jack boots. 

Where nae boots Ihould be. 

What's this now, goodwife? 

Whaf s this I fee? 
How came thefe boots there 

Without the leave o' me? 



SCOTS SONGS. 

Boots ! quo' fhe : 
Ay, boots, quo' he. 
Shame fa' your cuckold face, 

And ill mat ye fee, 
Ifs but a pair of water floups 
The cooper fent to me. 

Water floups! quo' he; 
Ay, water floups, quo' flie. 
Far hae I riden, 

And farer hae I gane. 
But filler fpurs on water floups. 
Saw I never nane. 

Our goodman came hame at e'en, . 

And hame came he, 
And then he faw a fword. 

Where a fword fhould nae be : 

What's this now, goodwife? 

What's this I fee? 
O how came this fword here, 

Without the leave o' me? 

A fword ! quo' fhe, 
Ay, a fword, quo' he. 
Shame fa' your cuckold face. 

And ill mat you fee. 
It's but a parridge fpurtle 
My minnie fent to me. 

Weil, far hae I ridden. 

And muckle hae I feen; 
But filler handed fpurtles 

Saw I never nane. 

P3 



173 



174 SCOTS SONGS 

Our goodman came hame at e'en, 

And hame came he; 
There he fpy'd a powder'd wig, 

Where nae wig fliould be : 

What's this now, goodwife? 

What's this I fee? 
How came this wig here, 

Without the leave o' me? 

A wig ! quo Ihe? 
Ay, a wig, quo' he. 
Shame fa' your cuckold face, 

And ill mat you fee, 
'Tis naething but a clocken-hen 
My minnie fent to me. 

Clocken hen ! quo' he : 
Ay, clocken-hen, quo' flie, 
Far-hae I ridden. 

And muckle hae I feen, 
But powder on a clocken hen 
Saw I never nane. 

Our goodman came hame at e'en, 

And hame came he, 
And there he faw a muckle coat. 

Where nae coat Ihou'd be : 

O how came this coat here? 

How can this be? 
How came this coat here 

Without the leave o' me? 

A coat I quo' flie : 
Ay, a coat, quo' he. 



SCOTS SONGS. 



Ye auld blind dotard carl, 

Blind mat ye be, 
It's but a pair of blankets 

My minnie fent to me. 

Blankets ! quo' he : 
Ay, blankets, quo' (he. 
Far hae I ridden, 

And muckle have I feen. 
But buttons upon blankets 
Saw I never nane. 

Ben went our goodman. 

And ben went he, 
And there he fpy'd a fturdy m 

Where nae man fliou'd be : 

How came this man here? 

How can this be? 
How came this man here, 

Without the leave o' me? 

A man I quo' (he : 
Ay, a man, quo' h& 
Poor blind body, 

And blinder mat ye be. 
If s a new milking maid, 
My mither fent to me. 

A maid ! quo' he : 
Ay, a maid, quo' (he. 
Far hae I ridden, 

And muckle hae I feen, 
But lang-beaided maidens 
I law never nane. 



176 SCOTS SONGS. 



The Nurfe's Song. 

TJ O W dan diUy dow, 

How den dan, 
Weel were your minny 
An ye were a man. 

Ye wad hunt and hawk, 

And ha*d her o' game, 
And water your dady's horfe, 

I' the mill dam. 

How dan dilly dow, 

How dan flours, 
Ye's ly i' your bed 

Till eleven hoiu*s. 

If at ele'en hours you lift to rife, 
Ye's hae your dinner dight in a new guife; 
La'rick's legs and titlens toes 
And a' fie dainties my Mannie Ihall hae. 

Da Capo. 



Kind-hearted NANCY. 

T ' L L go to the green wood, 

Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy, 
I'll go to the green wood. 
Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

O what an I come after you? 
Quo' Wilsy, quo' Wilsy; 



SCOTS SONGS. 177 

O what an I come after you? 
Quo' fla cowVdly Wi l s y. 

And what gif ye come back again? 

Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 
And what gif ye come back again? 

Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

But what gif I Ihou'd lay thee down? 

Quo' W I L s Y, quo' W I L s Y ; 
What gif I fhould lay thee down? 

Quo' fla cow'rdly Wi l s y. 

And what gif I can rife again? 

Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 
And what gif I can rife again? 

Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

O but what if I get you wi' bairn? 

Quo' Wi L s Y, quo' W i l s y ; 
O what gif I get you wi' bairn? 

Quo' fla cow'rdly Wi l s y. 

If you can get it I can bear't, 

Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 
If you can get it I can bear't, 

Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

Whafl we get a cradle till't? 

Quo' WiLSY, quo' Wilsy; 
Whar'l we get a cradle till't? 

Quo' fla cow'rdly Wilsy. 

There's plenty o' wood in Norway, 
Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 

(12) 



178 SCOTS SONGS 

There's plenty o' wood in Norway, 
Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

Wharl we get a cradle-belt? 

Quo' Wi L s Y, quo' Wi l s y ; 
Whar'l we get a cradle-belt? 

Quo* fla cow'rdly Wi l s y. 

Your garters and mine, 

Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 
Your garters and mine, 

Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

Then whar'l I tye my beaftie to? 

Quo' Wi l s y, quo' Wi l s y; 
Then whar'l I tye my beaftie to? 

Quo' fla cow'rdly Wi l s y. 

Tye him to my muckle tae. 
Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 

Tye him to my muckle tae. 
Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 

O what gif he fliould run awa'? 

Quo' Wi L s Y, quo' Wi l s y; 
O what gif he ftiould run awa'? 

Quo' fla cow'rdly Wi l s y. 

Deil gae wi' you, fteed and a', 
Quo' Nancy, quo' Nancy; 

Deil gae wi' you, fteed and a', 
Quo' kind hearted Nancy. 



SCOTS SONGS. 179 

Bide ye yet. 

/^ INI had a wee houfe and a canty wee fire, 

A bony wee wife to praife and adbiire; 
A bonny wee yardie afide a wee bum, 
Farewell to the bodies that yamer and mourn. 
And byde ye yet, and byde ye yety 

Ye little ken what may betide you yet; 
Some bonny wee bodie may be my lot. 
And ril ay be canty w^ thinking o^t. 

When I gang afield, and come hame at e'en, 
I'll get my wee wifie fou neat and fou clean; 
And a bonnie wee baimie upon her knee, 
That will cry papa or daddy to me. 
And bide ye yet, &c. 

And if there Ihould happen ever to be, 
A difference a'tween my wee wifie and me; 
In hearty good humour although fhe be teaz'd, 
m kifs her and clap her until flie be pleas'd. 
And bide ye yet, &c. 



Ranting Roving Lad. 

TVTY love was bom in Aberdeen, 

The bonniell lad that e'er was feen j 
O he is forced frae me to gae. 
Over the hills and far away. 

O he's a ranting roving laddie; 
O he's a brifk and bonny laddie; 



i8o SCOTS SONGS. 

Betide what will, 111 get me ready, 

And follow the lad wi' the Highland plaidie. 

I'll fell my rock, my reel, my tow. 
My gude grey mare and hacket cow, 
To buy my love a tartan plaid, 
Becaufe he is a roving blade. 

O he's a ranting roving laddie, 
O he's a bride and bonny laddie, 
Betide what will I'll get me ready. 
To follow the lad wi' the Highland plaidy. 



Let him gang. 



I 



T was on a Sunday, 
My love and I did meet, 
Which caufed me on Monday 
To figh and to weep; 
O to weep is a folly. 
Is a folly to me. 
Sen he'll be mine nae langer, 
Let him gang — farewell he. 

Let him gang, let him gang, 
Let him fink, let him fwim; 
If he'll be my love nae langer, 
Let him gang— farewell him; 
Let him drink to Rofemary, 
And I to the thyme; 
Let him drink to his love, 
And I unto mine. 



SCOTS SONGS. i8i 

For my mind fhall never alter, 
And vary to and fro ; 
I will bear a true aflfedlion 
To the young lad I know; 
Let him gang, let him gang, • 

Let him fink or let him fwim; 
If he'll be my love nae langer, 
Let him gang— farewell him. 



Tune. Jenny dang the weaver, 

A S I came in by Fifherraw, 

Muffelburgh was near me; 
I threw aflf my mufsle pock, 
And courted wi' my deary. 

had her apron bidden down. 
The kirk wad ne'er hae kend it; 

But fince the word's gane thro' the town, 
My dear I canna mend it. 

But ye maui^ mount the cutty-flool. 

And I maun mount the pillar; 
And that's the way that poor folk's do, 

Becaufe they hae nae filler. 

Up (lairs, down (lairs. 
Timber (lairs fears me. 

1 thought it lang to ly my lane. 
When I'm fae near my dearie. 

Vol. IL Q 



i82 SCOTS SONGS. 



np H E Ihepherd's wife cries o'er the lee, 

Come hame will ye, come hame will ye? 
The fliepherd's wife cries o'er the lee, 
Come hame will ye again een, jo? 

What will ye gie me to my fupper, 
Gin I come hame, gin I come hame? 

What will ye gie me to my fupper. 
Gin I come hame again een, jo? 

Ye*s get a panfu' of plumpin parrage; 

And butter in them, and butter in them; 
Ye's get a panfu' of plumpin parrage. 

Gin yell come hame again een, jo. 

Ha, ha, how, it's naething that dow; 

I winna come hame, and I canna come hame. 
Ha, ha, how, it's naething that dow; 

I winna come hame again een, jo. 

[Tke iwofirjl verfes are to befung here ami after.'] 

Ye's get a cock well totled i' the pat, 

An ye'll come hame, an ye'U come hame; 

Ye's get a cock well totled i' the pat, 
An ye'll come hame again een, jo. 

[The third verfe/or the chorus, ha, ha, &c] 

Ye's get a hen well boil'd i' the pah; 

An yell come hame, an ye'll come hame, 
Ye's get a hen well boil'd i' the pan. 

An ye'll come hame again een, jo. 



SCOTS SONGS. 183 

A well made bed, and a pair of clean Iheets, 
An ye'U come hame, an ye'll come hame; 

A well made bed, and a pair of clean fheets, 
An ye'll come hame again een, jo. 
Hay ha^ &c. 

A pair of white legs, and a good cogg-wame, 
An ye'll come hame, an ye'll come hame; 

A pair of white legs, and a good cogg-wame. 
An ye'll come hame again een, jo. 

Ha, ha, how, that's fomething that dow; 

I will come hame, I will come hame. 
Ha, ha, how, that's fomething that dow; 

ril halle me hame again een, jo. 

\The two firjl verfes of thisfong are to befung before 
the 4, 5, 6, 7, and %th verfes^ as before the 3^, and the 
4/^ after them by way of chorus^ 



Old King COUL. 

C\L D King C o u L was a jolly old foul. 

And a jolly old foul was he : 
Old King C o u L he had a brown bowl, 
And they brought him in fidlers three : 
And every fidler was a very good fidler, 
And a very good fidler was he. 
Fidell-didell, fidell-didell, with the fidlers three: 
And there's no a lafs in a' Scotland 
Compared to our fweet Marjorie. 

Q2 



i84 SCOTS SONGS.. 

Old King C o u L was a jolly old foul, 
And a jolly old foul was he : 
Old King C o u L he had a brown bowl, 
And they brought him in pipers three : 
Ha-didell, how-didell, ha-didell, how-didell, with the 

pipers three : 
Fidell, didell, fidell, didell, with the fidlers : 
And there's no a lafs in a! Scotland 
Compared to our fweet Marjorie. 

Old Kmg C o u L was a jolly old foul. 
And a jolly old foul was he; 
Old King C o u L he had a brown-bowl, 
And they brought him in harpers three : 
Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers; 
Ha-didell, how-didell, ha-didell, how-didell, went the 

pipers; 
Fidell-didell, Fidell-didell, went the fidlers ; 
And there's no a lafs in aJ Scotland 
Compared to our fweet Marjorie. 

Old King C o u L was a jolly old foul. 
And a jolly old foul was he : 
Old King C o u L he had a brown-bowl. 
And they brought him in trumpeters three. 
Twarra-rang, twarra-rang, went the trumpeters; 
Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers; 
Ha-didell, how-didell, went the pipers; 
Fidell-didell, fidell-didell, went the fidlers three : 
And there's no a lafs in a' Scotland 
Compared to our fweet Marjorie. 

Old King C o u L was a jolly old foul. 
And a jolly old foul was he : 



SCOTS SONGS. i8s 

Old King C o u L he had a brown-bowl, 
And they brought him in drummers three. 
Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, with the drummers; 
Twarra-rang, twarra-rang, with the trumpeters; 
Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, with the harpers; 
Ha-didell, how-didell, with the pipers; 
Fidell-didell, fidell-didell, with the fidlers three : 
And there's, no a lafs in aJ Scotland 
Compared to our fweet Marjorie. 



The Miller of Dee. 

'T' HERE was a jolly miller once 

Liv'd on the water of Dee; 
He wrought and fang frae mom to night. 

No lark more blyth than he; 
And this the burden of his fang 

For ever us'd to be, 
I care for no body, no not I, 

Since no body cares for me. 

I live by my mill, God blefs her. 

She's kindred, child and wife; 
I would not change my llation, 

For any other in life. 
No lawyer, furgeon or do6lor, 

E'er had a groat from me; 
I care for no body, no not I, 

If no body cares for me. 

When fpring begins his merry career. 
Oh how his heart grows gay; 

Q3 



i86 SCOTS SONGS 

No fummei^s drought alarms his fears, 

Nor wintei's iad decay : 
No forefight mars the miller's joy, 

Who's wont to ling and lay, 
Let others toil from year to year, 

I live from day to day. 

Thus like the miller bold and free 

Let us rejoice and ling, 
The days of youth are made for glee, 

And time is on the wing. 
This fong Ihall pafs from me to thee. 

Along this jovial ring; 
Let heart and voice and all agree 

To fay, Long live the king. 



The Tumimfpike. 

TT E R fel pe Highland flientleman, 
Pe auld as Pothwel prig, man; 
And mony alterations feen 

Amang the Lawland whig, man. 
Fal lal, &c. 

Firll when her to the Lowlands came, 
Nain fell was driving cows, man : 

There was nae laws about hims narfe, 
About the preeks or troufe, man. 
Fal lai, &C. 

Nain fell did wear the philapeg. 
The plaid prik't on her Ihouder; 



H^ 



SCOTS SONGS. 187 

The gude claymore hung pe her pelt, 
The pillol (harg'd wi' pouder. 
Fal iaiy &c 

But for whereas thefe curfed preeks, 

Wherewith mans narfe be lockit, 
O hon, that ere (he faw the day! 

For a' her houghs pe prokit 
Fal lal, &c 

Every thing in the Highlands now, 

Pe tum't to alteration; 
The fodger dwal at our door cheek, 

And that* s te great vexation. 
Fal lal, &c. 

Scotland be tum't a Ningland now. 

And laws pring on the cadger: 
Nain fell wad durk him for hur deeds, 

But oh fhe fears de fodger.^ 
Fal lal, &a 

Another law came after that. 

Me never faw the like, man; 
They mak a lang road on the crund. 

And ca' him tumimfpike, man. 
Fal laly &c 

And wow (he pe a ponny road, 

Like Louden com rigs, man; 
Whare twa carts may gang on her. 

And no break others legs, man. 
Fal lal, &c. 

They fharge a penny for ilka hors, 
In troth the/l be nae (heaper, 



i88 SCOTS SONGS. 

For nought but gaen upo* the cmnd, 
And they gie me a paper. 
Fed laly &C. 

They tak the hors than pe the head, 
And there they mak them fland, man. 

I teird them that I feen the day 
They had na fic command, man. 
Fal lal, &c 

Nae doubts nain-fell maun draw his purs. 
And pay them what him*s Hke, man : 

1*11 fee a fhudgement on his llore, 
That filthy tumimfpike, man. 
Fal laly &c. 

But 1*11 awa to the Highland hills, 
Whare nere a ane fall turn her; 

And no come near yoiu- tumimfpike, 
Unlefs it pe to pum her. 
Fal laly &c. 



Patie'S Wedding. 

A S P A T I E came up frae the glen, 
Drivin his wedders before him, 
He met bonny Meg ganging hame. 
Her beauty was like for to fmore him. 

dinna ye ken, bonny Meg, 

That you and I's gaen to be married? 

1 rather had broken my leg, 

Before fic a bargain mifcarried. 



SCOTS SONGS. 189 

Na, P A T I E — O wha's telFd you that ? 

I think that of news they've been fcanty, 
That I fhould be married fo foon, 

Or yet fhould hae been fae flantly : 
I winna be married the year, 

Suppofe I were courted by twenty ; 
Sae, Pa TIE, ye need nae mair fpear, 

For weel a wat I dinna want ye. 

Now, M E G G I E, what maks ye fae fweer ? 

Is't caufe tliat I henna a maillin ? 
The lad that has plenty o' gear 

Need ne'er want a half or a hail ane. 
My dad has a good gray mare, 

And yours has twa cows and a filly; 
And that will be plenty o' gear, 

Sae M A G G I E, be no fae ill-willy. 

Indeed, P a t i e, I dinna ken. 

But firfl ye maun fpeir at my daddy : 
You're as well bom as B e n. 

And I canna fay but I'm ready. 
There's plenty o' yam in clues. 

To make me a coat and a jimpy. 
And plaiden enough to be trews, 

Gif ye get it, I fhanna scrimp ye. 

Now fair fa' ye, my bonny Meg, 

I's let a wee fmacky fa' on you. 
May my neck be as lang as my leg, 

If I be an ill hufband unto you. 
Sae gang your way hame e'now. 

Make ready gin this day fifteen days, 



190 SCOTS SONGS. 

And tell your father the news, 

That I'll be his fon in great kindnefs. 

It was nae lang after that, 

Wha came to our bigging but P at i e, 
Weel drefl in a braw new coat, 

And wow but he thought himfelf pretty. 
His bannet was little frae new, 

In it was a loop and a llitty. 
To tie in a ribbon fae blue. 

To bab at the neck o' his coaty. 

Then P a t i e came in wi* a ilend. 

Said, Peace be here to the bigging. 
You're welcome, quo' William, come ben. 

Or I wi(h it may rive frae the rigging. 
Now draw in your feat and fit down, 

And tell's a' your news in a hurry; 
And hafle ye, Meg, and be done. 

And hing on the pan wi' the berry. 

Quoth P A T I E, My news is nae thrang ; 

Yeflreen I was wi' his Honour; 
I've taen three riggs of bra' land, 

And hae bound myfel under a honour : 
And now my errand to you 

Is for M E G G Y to help me to labour; 
I think you maun gie's the bell cow, 

Becaufe that our haddin's but fober. 

Well, now for to help you through, 

I'll be at the cofl of the bridal; 
I'fe cut the craig of the ewe 

That had amaiH deid of the fide-ill, 



SCOTS SONGS. 191 

And that 'ill be plenty of bree, 

Sae lang as our well is nae reified, 
To all the good neighbours and we, 

And I think we'll no be that ill feailed 

Quoth P AT I E, O that'il do well, 

And I'll gie you your brofe in the morning, 
C kail that was made yellreen. 

For I like them befl in the forenoon, 
Sae T A M the piper did play. 

And ilka ane danc'd that was willmg, 
And a' the lave they ranked through. 

And they held the floupy ay filling. 

The auld wives fat and they chew'd. 

And when that the carles grew nappy. 
They danc'd as weel as they dow'd, 

Wi' a crack o' their thumbs and a kappie. 
The lad that wore the white band, 

I think they cau'd him JamieMather, 
And he took the bride by the hand. 

And cr/d to play upMaggieLauder. 



Tune, Fy gar rub her o'er wi Jirae. 

"r\ EAR Roger, if your Jenny geek, 

And anfwer kindnefs with a flight. 
Seem unconcem'd at her negledt. 

For women in a man delight : 
But them defpife who're foon defeat, 

And with a fimple face give way 
To a repulfe; — then be not blate, 

Pufli bauldly on, and win the day. 



192 S.C O T S SONGS. 

When maidens, innocently young, 

Say aften what they never mean. 
Ne'er mind their pretty lying tongue, 

But tent the language of their een : 
If thefe agree, and (he perfifl 

To anfwer all your love with hate, 
Seek elfewhere to be better blefl, 

And let her figh when 'tis too late. 



Tune, Polwart on the Green. 

'T' H E dorty will repent. 

If lovers heart grow cauld. 
And nane her fmiles will tent. 
Soon as her face looks auld. 

The dawted bairn thus takes the pet. 
Nor eats, though hunger crave. 

Whimpers and tarrows at its meat, 
And's laugh'd at by the lave. 

They jefl it till the dinner's pafl; 

Thus by itfelf abus'd. 
The fool-thing is obliged to fafl, 

Or eat what the/ve refused. 



Tune, O dear mother, what Jhall I do? 

r\ Dear Peggy, love's beguiling, 
We ought not to trufl to fmiling; 
Better far to do as I do. 
Left a harder luck betide you. 



1 



SCOTS SONGS. 193 

LaiTes, when their fancy's canyd, 
Think of nought but to be marry'd : 
Running to a life deflroys 
Heartfome, free, and youthfu' joys. 



Tune, How can I be fad on my wedding day? 

TT O W fhall I be fad, when a hufband I hae. 

That has better fenfe than ony of thae 
Sour weak filly fellows, that fludy, like fools, 
To fink their ain joy and make, their wives fnools? 
The man who is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife, 
Or with dull reproaches encourages fliife; 
He praifes her virtue, and ne'er will abufe 
Her for a fmall failing, but find an excufe. 



Tune, Cauld kale in Aberdeen, 

/^ A U L D be the rebels cail, 

Oppreffors bafe and bloody, 
I hope we'll fee them at the lad 

Strung a' up in a woody. 
Blefs'd be he of worth and fenfe, 

And ever high his flation, 
That bravely flands in the defence 

Of confcience, king and nation. 

Vol. 1 1. (13) R 



194 SCOTS SONGS. 



Tune, Mucking of Geordy's byre, 

'T' H E laird wha in riches and honour 

Wad thrive, (hould be kindly and free, 
Nor rack the poor tenants, who labour 

To rife aboon poverty: 
Elfe like the pack-horfe that's unfother'd, 

And burden'd, will tumble down faint; 
Thus virtue by hardfliip is fmother'd. 

And rackers aft tine their rent 



T) E G G Y, now the King's come, 

Peggy, now the King's come, 
Thou may dance, and I fhall ling, 

Peggy, fince the King's come. 
Nae mair the hawkies fhall thou milk 
But change thy plaiding coat to filk, 
And be a lady of that ilk. 

Now, Peggy, fince the King's come. 



Tune, Happy Clown. 

TT I D from himfelf, now by the dawn, 
■*••*• He flarts as frefh as rofes blawn. 
And ranges o'er the heights and lawn 
After his bleeting flocks, 



SCOTS SONGS. 19s 

Healthful, and innocently gay, 
He chants and whiflles out the day, 
Untaught to fmile and then betray, 
Like courtly weathercocks. 

Life happy, from ambition free, 

Envy, and vile hypocrifie, 

Where truth and love with joy agree, 

UnfuUy'd with a crime; 
Unmoved with what diflurbs the great. 
In propping of their pride and Hate, 
He lives, and unafraid of fate, 

Contented fpends his time. 



For the Love of J E AN. 

JOCKYfaidtojENNY, J e n n y wilt thou do't. 
Ne'er a fit, quoth J e n n y, for my tocher good, 
For my tocher good I winna marry thee : 
E'en's ye like, quoth Jo c k y, ye may let it be. 

I ha*e gowd and gear, I ha'e land enough, 
I ha'e feven good owfen ganging in a pleugh. 
Ganging in a pleugh, and linkan o'er the lee, 
And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be. 

I ha'e a good ha' houfe, a bam and a byar, 
A peat-flack 'fore the door, will make a rantin &e; 
111 make a rantin fire, and merry fall we be. 
And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be. 

R 2 



196 SCOTS SONGS. 

Jenny faid to Jocky, Gin ye winna tell, 
Ye lall be the lad, 111 be the lafs myfell : 
Ye're a bonny lad, and I*m a laffie free ; 
Ye're welcomer to tak me than to let me be. 



Tune, The Bridegroom Greets, 

TTTHEN thefheep are in the fauld, and the kyathame, 

And a* the warld to fleep are gane j 
The waes of my heart fa*s in fhowers frae my eye. 
When my gudeman lyes found by me. 

Young Jemmy loo*d me well, and he fought me for 
his bride, 
But faving a crown he had naething befide; 
To make that crown a pound, my Jemmy gade to fea. 
And the crown and the pound were baith for me. 

He had nae been awa' a week but only twa, 
When my mother (he fell lick, and the cow was floun 



awa'; 



My father brake his arm, and my J e m m y at the fea, 
And auld RobinGrey came a courting me. 

My father coudna work, and my mother coudna fpin, 
I toird day and night, but their bread I coudna win; 
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in his ee, 
Said, J E N n Y for their fakes, O marry me. 

My heart it faid nay, I looked for Je m m y back; 
But the wind it blew high, and the (hip it was a wreck, 
The (hip it was a wreck, why didna Je m m y die? 
And why do I live to (ay waes me ? 



SCOTS SONGS. 197 

Auld Robin argued fair, tho' my mother didna fpeak, 
She looked in my face till my heart was like to break; 
So they gi'ed him my hand, tho' my heart was in the fea, 
And auld RoBiNGREvis gudeman to me. 

I hadna been a wife a week but only four, 
When fitting fae mournfully at the door, 
I faw my Jemmy's wreath, for I coudna think it he, 
'Till he faid, I'm come back for to marry thee. 

fair did we greet, and muckle did we lay; 
We took but ae kifs, and we tore ourfelves away; 
I wifti I were dead ! but I'm no like to die. 
And why do I live to fay waes me ? 

1 gang like a ghaifl, and I carena to fpin; 

I darena think on J e M m y, for that wou'd be a fin; 
But 111 do my befl a gude wife to be, 
For auld RoBiNGREYis kind unto me. 



Watty and Madge. 

In imitation of W i l l i a m and Margaret. 

''T'WAS at the fhining mid-day hour, 

When all began to gaunt. 
That hunger rugg'd at W a x t y's breafl, 
And the poor lad grew faint. 

His face was like a bacon ham 
That lang in reek had hung, 

R3 



198 SCOTS SONGS 

And horn-hard was his tawny hand 
That held his hazel ning. 

So wad the faftefl face appear 

Of the maifl dreffy fpark, 
And fuch the hands that lords wad hae, 

Were they kept clofe at wark. 

His head was like a heathery buih 

Beneath his bonnet blew, 
On his braid cheeks, frae lug to lug, 

His bairdy bridles grew. 

But hunger, like a gnawing worm, 
Gade rumbling through his kyte. 

And nothing now but folid gear 
Cou*d give his heart delyte. 

He to the kitchen ran with fpeed. 
To his lov'd M A D G E he ran, 

Sunk down into the chimney-nook 
With vifage four and wan. 

Get up, he cries, my crifliy love, 

Support my fmking faul 
With fomething that is fit to chew, 

Be*t either het or caul. 

This is the how-and hungry hour. 
When the befl cures for grief 

Are cog-fous of the lythy kail, 
And a good junt of beef. 

Oh Watty, Watty, Madge replies, 
I but o'er jullly trow'd 



SCOTS SONGS. 199 

Your love was thowlefs, and that ye 
For cake and pudding woo'd. 

Bethink thee, W a t t y, on that night, 

When all were fafl afleep, 
How ye kifs'd me frae cheek to cheek. 

Now leave thefe cheeks to dreep. 

How cou'd ye ca' my hurdies fat, 

And comfort of your fight? 
How cou'd you roofe my dimpled hand, 

Now all my dimples flight? 

Why did you promife me a fnood, 

To bind my locks fae brown? 
Why did you me fine garters heght, 

Yet let my hofe fa* down? 

O faithlefe Watty, think how aft 

I ment your farks and hofe ! 
For you how many bannocks flown, 

How many cogues of brofe ! 

But hark! — the kail-bell rings, and I 

Maun gae link aff the pot; 
Come fee, ye hafli, how fair I fweat, 

To ftegh your guts, ye fot. 

The grace was faid, the mafter fervid, 

Fat Madge returned again, 
Blyth Watty raife and rax*d himfell, 

And fidg'd he was fae fain. 

He h/d him to the favoiuy bench, 
Where a warm haggies ftood. 



200 SCOTS SONGS 

And gart his gooly through the bag 
Let out its fat heart's blood. 

And thrice he cry'd, Come eat, dear Mad 

Of this delicious fare; 
Syne claw'd it oflF mofl cleverly, 

Till he could eat nae mair. 



F R A G M E N T S 



O F 



O M 



AND 



HUMOUROUS SONGS. 



Mucking of Geordie'S byre. 

nr*H E mucking of G e o r d y's byre, 
And Ihooling the grupe fae clean, 
Has gard me weit my cheiks 
And greit with baith my een. 
// was flier my failures will, 
Nor yet my mothet^s defire, 
That ier IJhouldJUe my fingers, 
Wi mtuking ^Geordy's byre* 

The moufe is a merr}' beall. 

And the moudewort wants the een : 

But the warld Ihall ne'er get wit 

Sae merry as we ha'e been. 

// was nier, &c. 



202 SCOTS SONGS. 



Bonny Dundee. 



o 



H A V E I burnt, or have I flain? 
Or have I done aught injury? 
IVe gotten a bonny young laflie wi' bairn, 
The bailie's daughter of bonny Dundee. 
Bonny Dundee, and bonny Dundafs, 
Where (hall I fee fae bonny a lafs? 
Open your ports, and let me gang free, 
I maun flay nae langer in bonny Dundee. 



Galla -Water. 

J^R A JV, braw lads of Galla-water^ 

O braw lads of Galla-waterj 
m kilt my coats below my knee, 

And follow my love through the water, 
Sae fair her hair, fae brent her brow, 

Sae bonny blue her een, my dearie, 
Sae white her teeth, fae fweet her mou', 

I aften kifs her till I'm wearie. 

O'er yon bank, and o'er yon brae, 

O'er yon mofs amang the hether, 
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee, j 

And follow my love through the water. \ 

Down amang the broom, the broom, 

Down amang the'^broom, my dearie; 
The laffie loft her filken fnood, 

That gard her greet till (he was wearie. 



mmguS^SXa^XSSr- --^ -^^ 



SCOTS SONGS. 203 



Gae to the ky wi' me, J OH NY. 

/^AE to the ky wi^ me, ] ohny, 

Gae to the ky wP me; 
Gae to the ky wi^ me, J ohihy, 
And rU he merry wH thee. 
And was fhe not wordy of kiffes, 

And was (he not wordy of three, 
And was (he not wordy of kiffes. 
That gaed to the ky wi' me? 
Gae to the ky^ &c. 

I have a houfe to big, 

And another that's like to fa', 
I have a laffie wi' bairn, 

Which grieves me warfl of a*. 
Ga£ to the ky, &c. 

If that fhe be now wi' bairn. 

As I trow weel fhe be, 
I have an auld wife to my mither. 

Will doudle it on her knee. 
Gae to the ky, &c. 



Brofe and Butter. 

/^ TE my love brofe, brofe, 

GVe my love brofe and butter ^ 
Gie my love brofe, brofe, 

Yeflreen he wanted hisfupper. 



ao4 SCOTS SONGS. 

Jenny fits up in the laft, 
Jock Y wad fain hae been at her, 

There came a wind out of the waft, 
Made a' the windows to clatter. 
Gi^e my love^ &c. 

A goofe is nae good meat, 

A hen is bofs within, 
In a pye there's muckle deceit, 

A pudding it is a good thing. 
Gfemylovcy &c. 



Jenny's Bawbie. 

A ND d that iermyl^^Y^Y had, 
My Jenny had, my J en ny had; 
A thai ier myl^NNY had, 
Was ae bawbie. 
There's your plack, and my plack, 
And your plack, and my plack, 
And my plack and your plack, 
And J E N N y's bawbie. 
And tf ' t?iat ^er^ &c. 

Well put it a' in the pint-ftoup. 
The pint-ftoup, the pint-ftoup. 
We'll put it in the pint-ftoup. 
And birle't a' three. 

And d that ier, &c 



SCOTS SONGS. 20S 



Cauld kale in Aberdeen. 

O A U L D kale in Aberdeen, 
And caflocks in Strabogie; 
But yet I fear theyll cook o*er foon, 

And never warm the cogie. 
The laffes about Bogie gicht, 
Their limbs they are lae clean and tight, 
That if they were but girded right, 

They'll dance the reel of Bogie. 

Wow, Aberdeen, what did you mean, 

Sae young a maid to woo, Sir? 
I'm fure it was nae mows to her. 

Whatever it was to you. Sir ; 
For laffes now are no fae blate. 
But they ken auld folks out o' date. 
And better playfare can they get, 
Than callocks in Strabogie. 



Cock up your Beaver. 

TT7H E N firll my dear J o h n Y came to this town, 

He had a blue bonnet, it wanted the crown; 
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather, 
Hey, my J o H N Y lad, cock up your beaver. 
Cock up your beaver, cock up your beaver. 
Hey, my J o h n y lad, cock up your beaver; 
Cock up your beaver, and cock it nae wrang, 
We'll a' to England ere it be lang. 
Vol. II. S 



2o6 SCOTS SONGS. 



J 



John, come kifs me now. 

O H N, come kifs me now, now, naw^ 
O J OHV come kifs me now, 
John come kifs me by and by, 
And make nae mcUr ado. 



Some will court and compliment, 

And make a great ado, 
Some will make of their goodman. 
And ia-t will I of you. 
John, come kifs, &c 



When fhe came ben fhe bobbit 

TT7 H E N (he came ben (he bobbit, 

And when (he came ben (he bobbit 
And when (he came ben (he ki(l C o c k p b n. 
And then deny'd that (he did it 

And was nae C o c k p e n right fawcy, 
And was nae C o c k p e n right fawcy? 
He len'd his lady to gentlemen, 
And he kid the collier la(rie. 

And was nae C o c k p e n right able. 
And was nae C o c k p £ n right able? 
He left his lady with gentlemen. 
And he ki(l the lafs in the (lable. 



SCOTS SONGS. 207 

O are you wi' baim, my chicken ? 
O are you wi' baim, my chicken? 
O if I am not, I hope to be, 
E'er the green leaves be Ihaken. 



I wifh that you were dead, Goodman. 

T WISH that you were dead, goodmariy 
And a green fod on your head, goodman. 
That I might ware my widowhead, 
Upon a ranting highlandman. 

There's fax eggs in the pan, goodman, 
There's fax eggs in the pan, goodman, 
There's ane to you, and twa to me, 
And three to our J o H N Highlandman. 
/ wijh, &c. 

There's beef into the pat, goodman, 
There's beef into the pat, goodman, 
The banes for you, and the brew for me, 
And the beef for our J o H N Highlandman. 
Iwijh, &c 

There's fax horfe in the liable, goodman. 
There's fax horfe in the flable, goodman, 
There's ane to you, and twa to me, 
And three to our J o H N Highlandman. 
Iwijh, &c 

There's lax ky in the byre, goodman, 
There's lax ky in the byre, goodman, 

S2 



2o8 SCOTS SONGS. 

There's nane o* them yours, but there's twa of them 

mine, 
And the lave is our J o H N Highlandman's. 
Iwijhf &C. 



Whiftle o'er the lave o't. 

TVT Y mither fent me to the well, 
She had better gane herfell, 
I got the thing I dare nae tell, 
Whiflle o'er the lave o't 

My mither fent me to the fea, 
For to gather mulles three; 
A failor lad fell in wi' me, 
Whiflle o'er the lave o't. 



The Grey Cock. 

r\ S A W ye my father, or faw ye my mother. 

Or faw ye my true love John? 
I faw not your father, I faw not your mother. 
But I law your true love John. 

It's now ten at night, and the liars gie nae light: 

And the bells they ring ding, dong. 
He's met wi' fome delay, that caufeth him to Hay; 

But he will be here ere lang. 



SCOTS SONGS. 209 

Tbe furly auld carl did naething but iharl, 

And John y's face it grew red; 
Yet tho' he often figh'd, he ne'er a word reply'd, 

Till all were afleep in bed. 

Up J o H N Y rofe, and to the door he goes, 

And gently tirled the pin; 
The laflie taking tent, unto the door (he went. 

And (he open'd and let him in. 

And are ye come at lad, and do I hold ye fall ? 

And is my J o H N Y true ? 
I have nae time to tell, but fae lang*s I like my fell, 

Sae lang fall I love you. 

Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock. 

And craw whan it is day; 
Your neck Ihall be like the bonny beaten gold, 

And your wings of the filver grey. 

The cock proved falfe, and untrue he was. 

For he crew an hour o'er foon; 
The laflie thought it day when fhe fent her love away. 

And it was but a blink of the moon. 



The W R E N, or, L E N N O x's Love to B L A N- 

TYRE. 

np H E W R E N fcho lyes in care's bed, 

In care's bed, in care's bed; 
The Wren fcho lyes in care's bed, 
In meikle dule and pyne — O. 
(U) S 3 



2IO SCOTS SONGS 

Quhen in came Robin Red-breail, 

Red-breafl, Red-breafl; 
Quhen in came Robin Red-breafl, 

Wi' fuccar-faps and wyne — O. 

Now, maiden, will ye tafte o' this, 

Tafle o' this, tafte o' this ; 
Now, maiden, will you tafte o' this? 

It's fuccar-faps and wyne— O. 
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin, 

Robin, Robin; 
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin, 

Gin it was ne'er fo fine— O. 



And quhere's the ring that I gied ze, 

That I gied ze, that I gied ze; 
And quhere's the ring that I gied ze, 

Ze little cutty quean— O. 
I gied it till a foger, 

A foger, a foger, 
I gied it till a foger, 

A kynd fweet-heart o' myne — 0. 



TT7"ILL ze go to the wood? quo' Fozie Mozie; 
Willzegotothewood?quo* JohnieRednozie; 
Will ze go to the wood ? quo' F o s l i n 'ene; 
Will ze go to the wood ? quo' brither and kin. 

What to do there ? quo' FozieMozie; 
What to do there? quo' J ohnie Rednozib; 
What to do there ? quo' F o s l i n 'ene; 
What to do tliere ? quo' brither and kin. 



SCOTS SONGS. 211 

To flay the Wren, quo' Fozie Mozie: 
To flay the W R E N, quo' Johnie Rednozie: 
To flay the W R e N, quo' F o s l i n 'ene : 
To flay the W R e N, quo' brither and kin. 

What way wiU ze get her hame? quo' Fozie Mozie; 
What way will ze get her hame? quo' Johnie Rei>- 

nozie; . 
What way will ze get her hame? quo' F o s l i n 'ene; 
What way will ze get her hame? quo' brither and kin. 

We'll hyre carts and horfe, quo' Fozie Mozie: 
We'll hyre carts and horfe, quo' Johnie Rednozie: 
We'll hyre carts and horfe, quo' F o s l i n 'ene : 
We'll hyre carts and horfe, quo' brither and kin. 

What way will we get her in? quo' Fozie Mozie; 
What way will we get her in? quo' Johnie Red- 
nozie; 
What way will we get her in? quo' F o s l i n 'ene; 
What way will ze get her in? quo' brither and kin. 

We'll drive down the door-cheeks, quo* FozieMozie: 
We'U drive down the door-cheeks, quo' Johnie Red- 
nozie: 
We'll drive down the door-cheeks, quo' F o s l i n 'ene : 
We'U drive down the door-cheeks, quo' brither and kin. 

rUhaeawing, quo' Fozie Mozie: 

rU hae another, quo' Johnie Rednozie: 

111 hae a leg, quo' F o s l i n 'ene : 

And I'U hae anither, quo' brither and kin. 



212 SCOTS SONGS. 

Luftie Maye. 

/^ LusTiE Maye, with Flora Queen, 
The balmy drops from Phoebus Iheen, 

Prelufant beams before the day, 

Before the day, the day; 
By thee, Diana, groweth green, 

Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye, 

Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye*. 

Then Aurora that is fo bright. 

To woful hearts he cafts great light. 
Right pleafantly before the day, dr'c. 

And fliows and fliades forth of that light. 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye, 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye. 

Birds, on their boughs, of every fort, 

Send forth their notes, and make great mirth, 

On banks that bloom on every bray, 6rc. 
And fares and flyes o'er field and firth. 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye, 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye. 

All lovers hearts that are in care, 

To their ladies they do repair, 

In frefti mornings before the day, 6*r. 

And are in mirth ay more and more, 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye, 
Through gladnefs of this luftie Maye. 

* The firft vetfe of this fong is cited in a book intitled, Tiie 
Complaint of Scotland, &c. printed at St Andrews in 1548; 
whereby it appears to have been a current old Scots fong In 
the reign of J a m es V. 



SCOTS SONGS. 213 

Of every monith in the year, 

To mirthful M a y e there is no peer, 
Her glill'ring garments are fo gay, &»c. 

Your lovers all make itierry cheer, 

Through gladnefs of this luftie M a y e, 
Through gladnefs of this luflie M a v £. 



Tune, John Anderson my Jo. 

TTTH E N I was a wee thing, 

And jull like an elf. 
All the meat that e*er I gat, 
I laid upon the fhelf. 

The rottens and the mice 

They fell into a llrife, 
They wadnae let my meat alane 

Till I gat a wife. 

And when I gat a wife, 

She wadnae bide therein, 
Till I gat a hurl-barrow, 

To hurle her out and in. 

The hurl-barrow brake. 

My wife fhe gat a fa'; 
And the foul fa' the hurl-barrow, 

Cripple wife and a*. 

She wadnae eat nae bacon, 

She wadnae eat nae beef. 
She wadnae eat nae lang-kail. 

For fyling o' her teeth : 



214 SCOTS SONGS. 

But (he wad eat the bonnie bird, 

That fits upon the tree : 
Gang down the burn, Davie, love. 

And I fall follow thee. 



Wall fu fa the Cat 

A S I came down bonny Tweed-fide, 

I heard and I will nae what; 
I heard ae wife fay to anither, 

waly fii fa' the cat ! 

O waly fu fa the cat ! 

For (he has bred muckle waneafe; 
She has opened the amry door. 

And has eaten up a! our bit cheefe. 

She has eaten up a' the bit cheefe; 

O' the bannocks fhe*s no left a mote; 
She has dung the hen afFher eggs; 

And (he's drown'd in the fowin-boat. 

O waly fu fa the cat ! 

1 kend fhe wad never do grace ; 
She has pifl i* the backet of fa't; 

And has dung the bit fifh aff the brace. 

She has dung the bit fifh aff the brace; 

And it*s fallen i' the maifler-can; 
And now it has fie a flink, 

It'll pizen the filly good man. 



SCOTS SONGS. 215 

Dainty Davie* 

f\ L E E Z E me on your curly pow, 

Dainty Davie, dainty Davie; 
Leeze me on your curly pow, 
Mine ain dainty Davie. 

It was in and through the window broads, 

And 3J the tirlie wirlies o*d; 
The fweetefl kifs that e'er I got, 

Was frae my dainty Davie. 
O leeze me on your curly pow ^ &c. 

It was down amang my dady*s peafe, 

And underneath the cherry-trees; 
O there he kifl me as he pleased, 

For he was mine ain dear Davie. 

leeze me on your curly pow ^ &c. 

When he was chas'd by a dragoon, 
Into my bed he was laid down ; 

1 thought him wordy o' his room, 
And he's ay my dainty Davie, 

O leeze me on your curly pow ^ &c. 



XT E Y how J o H N Y lad, ye're no fae kind's ye fud hae 

been, 
Hey how Jo H n y lad, ye're no fae kind's ye fud hae been; 

* The following fong was made upon Mefs David William- 
fon, on his getting with child the Lady Cherrytree's daughter, 
while the foldiers were fearching the houfe to apprehend him 
jfor a rebeL 



2i6 SCOTS SONGS. 

Sae weeFs ye might hae touzled me, and fweetly pried my 

mow bedeen; 
Hey how J o h n y lad, ye're no fae kind's ye fud hae been. 

My father he was at the pleugh, my mither (he was at 

the mill, 
My billie he was at the mofs, and no ane near our 

fport to fpill ; 
The feint a body was therein, ye need na fley'd for 

being feen ; 
Hey how Jo h n y lad, ye're no lae kind's ye fud hae been. 

But I maun hae anither joe, whafe love gangs never out 

o' mind. 
And winna let the mament pafs, when to a lais he can 

be kind ; 
Then gang yere wa's to Blinking Bess, nae mair. for 

J o H N Y fal Ihe green : 
Hey how J o h n y lad, y e're no lae kind's ye fud hae been. 



JOHNY Johnston. 

/^ JoHNY Johnston was my love. 

But wha wad e'er hae thought it o' him? 
He's left me for a tocher'd lafe, 
A dirty flut unwordy o' him. 

But to the bridal I fall gang, 
Although I'm fure I was nae bidden : 

I care nae tho' they a' fliould cry, 

Hech, fee, firs, yonder comes the dirdam. 



SCOTS SONGS. 217 

When I came to the bridal-houfe, 

Wow, but the flut had httle 'havens ! 
For ay Ihe rave, and rugged at, 

And licked a' the creechy gravins. 

A gentleman that fate need me, 

Was fpearing wha was't that was aught her; 
Indeed, fir, I think fhame to tell, 

She's fie a filly body's daughter. 

The bride (he minted wi' a bane. 

And grin'd at me becaufe I laid it; 
She laid, lays (he, fay that again, 

And I'fe gar you make ae thing twa o't 

I trow then when the bride faw this, 

She bade my love come for to pleafe me; 

He came, and bade me chufe my fpring. 
And faid, fays he, what's this that grieves you? 

I'm neither griev'd nor fad, fays I, 

And that I'll let you ken to eafe you, 
111 dance, fae will I, gif I like; 

And ye's tire firft, Sir, I'fe affure you. 

But when the bedding came at fe'en. 

Wow, but the houfe was in a (leery; 
The bride was frighted lair for fear. 

That I wad take awa' her deary. 

My bonny love gae flow to bed. 

He kifs'd her but 'twas for the fsShion; 

And fyne he glowr'd at my white flcin. 
And fyne he figh'd, and rued the bargain. 
Vol. II. T 



2i8 SCOTS SONGS. 



XJ O W lang have I a batchelor been, 

This twa and twenty year ? 
How aft have I a-wooing gane ? 
Tho* I came never the near. 

For, N A N N I E fhe fays, fhe winna hae me, 

I look fae like a cloun ; 
But by my footh, I'm as good as herfel, 

Sae I's ne'er fafh my thumb. 

She fays, if I could loup and dance, 

As T A M the miller can ; 
Or cut a caper like the taylor, 

She wad like me than. 

By my word if s daffin to lie, 
My joints were ne'er fo nimble; 

The taylor he has naething to mind. 
But his bodkin, fliears, and thimble. 

And how do you do, my little wee Nan, 

My lamb and flibrikin moufe ? 
And how does your father and mother do. 

And a' the good folks i* the houfe ? 

I think nae fliame to (haw my Ihapes; 

ITe warrand ye'U guefs my errand; 
You maun gang wi' me, my fair maid, 

To marry you, fir, I warrand. 

But, maun belongs to the king himfell. 

But no to a country cloun; 
Ye might have faid, wi' your leave, fair maid. 

And letten your maun alane. 



SCOTS SONGS. 219 

O fee but how (he mocks me now, 

She feoffs me and does fcom ; 
The man that marries you, fair maid, 

Maun rife right foon i' the mom. 

But fare ye well, and even's you like. 

For I can get anither. 
He lap on his horfe at the back o* the dyke, 

And gaed hame to tell his mither. 

When Nan faw that, (he wad na wait. 

But fhe has ta*en the taylor; 
For when a lafs gets the lad fhe likes 

Tis better far than filler. 

But when he heard that N a n s e was tint. 

As he fat on yon know; 
He ruggit his hair, he blubbered and grat, 

And to a flane daddit his pow. 

His mither came out, and wi' the difhclout. 

She daddit about his mow ; 
The deirs i* the chield, I think he's gane dafl, 

Get up, ye blubbering fow. 

If ever there was an ill wife i* the warld. 

It was my hap to get her; 
And by my hap, and by my luck, 

I had been better butt her. 

I wifh I had been laid i' my grave. 

When I got her to marriage ! 
For, the very firfl night the flrife began, 

And fhe gae me my carriage. 

T 2 



220 SCOTS SONGS. 

I fcoured awa to Edinborow-town, 

And my cutty-brown together; 
And there I bought her a braw new-gown, 

I'm fure it cofl fome filler. 

nka ell o't was a crown, 

*Twas better than her marriage : 
But becaufe it was black, and it was na brown, 

For that I got my carriage. 

When I few naething her wad mend, 

.1 took her to the foreft; 
The very firft wood that I came to, 
Green-holan was the nearell; 

There I paid her baith back and lide. 

Till a* her banes play'd clatter; 
And a' the bairns gathered round about, 

Cr/d, fy goodman have at her. 



A S I gaed to the well at e'en, 

As any honed auld woman will do. 
The carl then he followed me, 
As auld carles will do. 

He wodd me, and 100* d me, 
A wally how he wodd me! 
But yet I winna tell to you, 
How the carl wodd me. 

As I lat at my wheel at e'en, 
As any honefl auld woman fliou'd do. 

The carl he came in to me, 
As auld carles will do. 

He wodd me, and lodd me, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 221 

As I gaed to my bed at e'en, 
As any other honefl auld woman wou'd do, 

The carl then he came to me, 
As auld carles will do. 

He wodd mCy and lodd me^ &c. 



Lumps of Pudding. 

TiT Y daddy he (leal'd the minifler's cow. 

And a' we weans gat puddings anew; 
The dirt crap out, as the meat gaed in, 
And wow fic puddings as we gat then ! 
Sic lumps d puddings ^ fic dads d breads 
They fiack in my throaty and maiji were my dead. 

As I gaed by the miniller's yard, 
I fpied the minifler kiifmg his maid : 
Gin ye winnae believe, cum here and fee 
Sic a braw new coat the miniller gied me. 
Sic lumps 0^ puddings y &c. 



Birks of Abergeldie. 

"D O N N I E laffie, will ye go. 

Will ye go, will ye go, 
Bonnie laffie, will ye go 

To the birks o* Abergeldie? 
Ye fhall get a gown of filk, 

A gown of filk, a gown of filk, 
Ye fhall get a gown of filk. 

And coat of calimancoe. 

T3 



222 SCOTS SONGS. 

Na, kind Sir, I dare nae gang, 

I dare nae gang, I dare nae gang, 
Na, kind Sir, I dare nae gang, 

My minnie (he'll be angry. 
Sair, fair wad flie flyte, 

Wad Ihe flyte, wad (he flyte, 
Sair, fair wad (he flyte. 

And fair wad (he ban me. 



17' E E P the country, bonny laflfie, 

Keep the country, keep the country, 
Keep the country, bonny la(rie; 

Lads will a' gie gowd for ye : 
Gowd for ye, bonny laflTie, 

Gowd for ye, gow'd for ye. 
Keep the country, bonny la(rie. 

Lads will a' gie gowd for ye. 



AND fare ye weel, my auld wife. 

Sing bum, be bery, bum : 
Fare ye weel, my auld wife, 

Sing bum, bum, bum. 
Fare ye weel, my auld wife. 
The (leerer up o' (Irunt and (Irife ; 

The malt's aboon the meal the night, 
Wi' fome, fome, fome. 

And fare ye weel, my pyke-(la(F, 

Sing bum, be bery bum ; 
Fare ye weel, my pyke-daff". 

Sing, bum bum, bum : 



SCOTS SONGS. 223 

Fare ye weel, my pyke-flaff, 

Wi' you nae mair my wife I'll bafF; 

The malt's aboon the meal the night 

Wi' fome, fome, fome. 



Wf ILL ye go to Flanders, my M a l l y — O? 

Will ye go to Flanders, my bonnie Mally — O? 

There we'll get wine and brandy, 

And fack and fugar-candy; 
Will ye go to Flanders, my Mally — O? 

Will ye go to Flanders, my Mally — O? 

And fee the chief commanders, my M ally — O? 

You'll fee the bullets fly, and the foldiers how they die, 
And the ladies loudly cry, my Mall y — O ! 



np Ibby Fowler o' the glen, 

There's o'er mony wooing at her; 
She has lovers nine or ten, 

There's o'er mony wooing at her: 

Wooing at her, kifling at her. 
Clapping at her, cannae get her; 

Shame fa' her filthy fnout, 

There's o'er mony wooing at her. 



224 SCOTS SONGS. 

Kirk -wad let me be. 

« 

T AM a poor filly auld man, 
And hirpling o'er a tree; 
Z^t fain, fain kifs wad I, 
Gin the kirk wad let me be. 

Gin a* my duds were aff. 

And a' hail claes on, 
O I could kifs a zoung lafs, 

As weel as ony man. 



Blink over the Burn, fweet BETTY. 

TN fimmer I mawed my meadows, 

In harveft I (hure my corn. 
In winter I married a widow, 
I wifti I was free the mom. 

Blink over the burn, fweet Betty, 

Blink over the bum to me : 
O it is a thoufand pities 

But I was a widow for thee. 



Green grows the Rafhes. 

/^ R E E N grows the rafhes— O, 
^"^ Green grows the rafhes — O : 

The feather-bed is no fae faft 

As a bed amang the rafhes. 



SCOTS SONGS. 225 

We're a' dry wi* drinking o't, 
We're a' dry wi' drinking o't ; 
The parfon kifl the fidler's wife, 

And he cou'd na preach for thinking o't. 
Green grows, &c. 

The down-bed, the feather-bed. 

The bed amang the raflies — O ; 
Yet a' the beds is na fae faft 

As the bellies o' the lafTes — O. 



/^ This is my departing time ! 
^^ For here nae langer maun I flay : 
There's not a friend or foe of mine 
But wifhes ,that I were away. 

What I hae done for lack o' wit, 

I never, never can recal ! 
I hope you're a' my friends as yet : 

Good-night and joy be wi' you all. 



T Hae layen three herring a' fa't : 

Bonnie lafs, gin ze'll take me, tell me now 
And I hae brow'n three pickles o' ma't; 
And I cannae cum ilka day to woo; 
To woOy to woOf to lilt and to woo: 
And I cannae cum ilka day to woo, 

(IS) 



226 SCOTS SONGS. 

I ha'e a wee caY that wad fain be a cow: 

Bonnie laflie, gin ze'll take me, tell me now: 
I hae a wee gryce that wad fain be a fow: 
And I cannae cum ilka day to woo; 
To woo, to woOy to lilt and to woo; 
And I cannae cum ilka day to woo. 



Up in the Morning early. 

•T* HERE gaed a fair maiden out to walk, 

In a morning of July : 
She was fair, bonnie, fweet, and young; 
But met wi' a lad unruly. 

He took her by the lilly-white hand; 

He fwore he loo'd her truly : 
The man forgot, but the maid thought on, 

O it was in the month of July ! 



Kift the Streen. 

On the late Duke of Argyle, 

/^ A S I was kill yeflreen ! 

^^ O as I was kifl yeflreen ! 

Ill never forget till the day that I die, 

Sae mony braw kiffes his Grace gae me. 

My father was lleeping, my mither was owt, 
And I was my lane, and in came the Duke 



SCOTS SONGS. 227 

1*11 never forget till the day that I die, 
Sae mony braw kiffes his Grace gae me. 

Kifl the llreen, kifl the flreen, 
Up the Gallowgate, down the Green : 
I'll never forget till the day that I die, 
Sae mony braw kifTes his Grace gae me. 



Tune, Fyy gar rub her der wi Jlrae. 

T O O K up to Pentland's towering tops, 
Buried beneath great wreaths of ihaw, 
O'er ilka cleugh, ilk fear and flap. 
As high as ony Roman wa'. 

Driving their baws frae whins or tee, 

There's no nae gowfer to be feen. 
Nor douffer fowk wyfing a-jee 

The byafl bouls on Tamfon's green. 

Then fling on coals, and ripe the ribs, 

And beek the houfe baith but and ben, 
That mutchken fl^oup it hads but dribs, 

Then let's get in the tappit hen. 

« 

Good claret beft. keeps out the cauld. 
And drives away the winter foon ; 

It makes a man baith gafli and bauld. 
And lifts his faul beyond the moon. 

Leave to the gods your ilka care. 

If that they think us worth their while, 

They can a rowth of bleflings fpare, 
Which will our fafliious fears beguile. 



228 SCOTS SONGS. 

For what they have a mind to do. 

That will they do, Ihould we gang wood; 

If they command the (lorms to blaw. 
Then upo' fight the haililains thud. 

But foon as ere they cry, be quiet, 

The blattering winds dare nae mair move, 

But cour into their caves, and wait 
The high command of fupreme Jove. 

Let neift day come as it thinks fit. 
The prefent minute's only ours ; 

On pleafure let's employ our wit. 
And laugh at fortune's fecklefs powers t. 



"1X7" H E N I gaed to the mill my lane. 

For to ground my,^malt, 
The miller-laddie kill me; 

I thought it was nae fau't 
What though the laddie kifl me, 

When I was at the mill ! 
A kifs is but a touch ; 

And a touch can do na ill. 

O I loo the miller-laddie ! 

And my laddie lues me ; 
He has fie a blyth look, 

And a bonnie blinking ee. 

t For the remainder of this fong, fee page 426. of the pre- 
fent volume. 



SCOTS SONGS. 229 

What though the laddie kifl me, 

When I was at the mill ! 
A kifs is but a touch ; 

And a touch can do na ill. 



T^ Onald Cowper and his man 

They've gane to the fair ; 
TheyVe gane to court a bonny lafs, 

But fint a ma was there : 
But he has gotten an auld wife, 

And Ihe's come hirpling hame; 
And Ihe's fa'n o'er the buffet-flool. 
And brake her nimple-bane. 
Sing, Hey Donald, how Donald, 

Hey DonaldCowper; 
H^s gane awcC to court a wife. 
And h^s come hame without her. 



Tune, Green Sleeves, 

A S I walk'd by myfelf, I faid to myfelf, 

And myfelf faid again to me. 
Look well to thyfelf, take care of thyfelf. 
For no body cares for thee. 

Then I anfwer'd to myfelf, and laid to myfelf. 

With the felf-fame repartee, 
Look well to thyfelf, or not to thyfelf. 

It's the felf-fame thing to me. 

Vol. II. U 



230 SCOTS SONGS 

TVTY wife's a wanton wee thing, 

My wife's a wanton wee thing, 
My wife's a wanton wee thing; 
She'll never be guided by me. 

She play'd the loon e'er Ihe was married, 
She pla/d the loon e'er (he was married, 
She pla/d the loon e'er Ihe was married; 
She'll do't again e'er (he die. 



T Ogan-water and Logan-braes — 

I helped a bonnie laflie on wi' her claiths; 
Firil wi' her (lockings, and then wi' her (hoon; 
And (he gave me the glaiks when a' was done. 

But had I kend what I ken now, 

I (hould have bang'd her belly fou, 

Her belly fou, and her apron up; 

And hae (hew'd her the way to Logan-kirk. 



CYmon Brodie had a cow: 

The cow was lod, and he cou'd na find her; 
When he had done what man cou'd do. 

The cow came hame, and the tail behind her. 

Honejl^ auld SymonBrodie, 

Stupid^ auldy doited bodie; 

ril awcC to the North Countrie, 

And fee my ain dear Symon Brodie. 



SCOTS SONGS. 231 

Symon Brodie hada wife. 

And wow but fhe was braw and bonnie ; 

She took the difh-clout aflf the bink, 
And prin'd it to her cockemonie. 
Honeji, auld Symon Brodie, &c 



Barm. 

T'LL trip upon trenchers, I'll dance upon difhes; 

My mither fent me for barm, for barm : 
And through the kirk-yard I met wi* the laird, 
The filly, poor body could do me no harm. 

But down i* the park, I met with the clerk, 
And he gaed me my barm, my barm. 



The bonnie lafs of Anglefey. 

r\ U R king he has a fecret to tell, 
^^ And ay we'll keep it mufl and be; 
The Englifh lords are coming down, 
To dance and win the vi<5lory. 

Our king has cry'd a noble cry, 
And ay we'll keep it mull and be; 

Gar faddle ye, and bring to me, 
The bonnie lafs of Anglefey. 

U 2 



232 SCOTS SONGS. 

Up (he flarts as white as the milk, 
Between him and his company; 

What is the thing I hae to alk, 
If I (hould win the vidlory? 

Fifteen ploughs but and a mill, 
I'll gie thee till the day thou die; 

And the fairefl knight in a' my court, 
To chufe thy hufband for to be. 

She's ta'en the fifteen lords by the hand. 
Saying, Will ye come and dance with me? 

But on the mom, at ten o'clock, 
They gave it o'er moll (hamefully. 

Up then rofe the fifteenth lord; 

I wat an angry man was he; 
Laid by fi"ae him his belt and fword. 

And to the floor gaed manfully. 

He faid, My feet Ihall be my dead, 

Before ihe win the vi<5lory; 
But before 'twas ten o'clock at night, 

He gaed it o'er as IhamefuUy. 



The Dainty Downby. 

*T^ H E R e's a farmer near hard by, 
"*- Sent out his daughter to keep the ky, 
Sent out his daughter to keep the ky. 
In the green of the Dainty Downby. 



SCOTS SONGS. 233 

This laffie being of a noble mind, 
She went to the garden to pu' a pickle thyme, 
She went to the garden to pu' a pickle thyme, 
In the garden of the Dainty Downby. 

Little did Ihe ken that the laird was at hame. 
Little did Ihe ken that the laird was at hame, 
Little did Ihe ken that the laird was at hame. 
The laird of the Dainty Downby. 

He has ta'en her by the milk-white hand, 
He has ta'en her by the grafs-green fleeve, 
He has made her to be at his command. 
In the green of the Dainty Downby. 

O go hame ! go hame, and tell your father this, 
Go hame, go hame, and tell your father this, 
Go hame, go hame, and tell your father this, 
What yeVe gotten in the Dainty Downby. 

Her father is to this young laird gone, 
For to pay fome rents that he was owing. 
For to pay fome rents that hfe was owing, 
To the Laird of the Dainty Downby. 

O how is your daughter Margaret! he faid, 
O how is your daughter Marg'ret! he faid, 
O how is your daughter Marg'ret, he faid. 
Since ihe was in the Dainty Downby? 

Gae gar her come and fpeak to me, 
Gae gar her come and fpeak to me, 
Gae gar her come right fpeedily, 
To me in the Dainty Downby. 

U3 



234 SCOTS SONGS. 

When this laflie before this young laird came, 
Her lover baith grew pale and wan : 
OMarg'ret, Marg'ret! youVe lain with a man. 
Since you was in the Dainty Downby. 

O kind Sir ! you may well underfland, 
Since you made me to be at your command, 
You made me to be at your command; 
And wo to your Dainty Downby ! 

Margaret, Marg'Ret! gif I be the man. 
If I be the man that has done ye the wrang, 

1 (hall be the man that will raife you again, 
Since you was in the Dainty Downby. 

Then he has call'd upon his vaffals all, 
He has calFd on them baith great and fmall; 
Then he has made her there, before them all, 
The Lady of the Dainty Downby. 



The Tod. 

^T* HERE dwells a Tod on yonder craig, 
"^ And he's a Tod of might — ^a; 
He lives as well on his purchafe. 
As ony laird or knight — sl. 

John Armstrang faid unto the Tod,> 

An ye come near my Iheep — a. 
The firll time that I meet wi' you. 

It's I will gar ye greet — a. 

The Tod faid to John Armstrang again. 

Ye dare na be fae bauld — a; 
For*n I hear ony mair o' your din, 

I'll worry a! the ftieep o* your fauld — a. 



SCOTS SONGS. 23s 

The T o D he hies him to his craig, 

And there fits he fu* croufs — a; 
And forJoHNiE Armstrang, and a' his tykes, 

He does not care a loufe — a. 



Reckle Mahudie. 

r 

M I T H E R. 

TT^H ERE will we get a wife to you? 

Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie. 

SON. 

Wha but Maggie a-yont the bum, 
She'll make a wife right gudie. 

M I T H E R. 

I fear fhe*ll be but a fober wife, 
Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie. 

SON. 

I believe you'd hae me feek a king's dochter, 
' But foul fa' me if I dudie. 

M I T H E R. 

O what'U you hae to your wadden feafl? 
Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie. 

SON. 

A pint of brofe and a good fa't herring, 
It'll make a feafl right gudie. 



236 SCOTS SONGS. 



M I T H E R. 



I fear itil be but a fober feafl, 
Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie, 



SON. 



I believe you'd hae me hae baith fodden and road, 
But foul fa' me if I dudie. 



M I T H E R. 



O wha'U you hae at your wadden, 

Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie? 



SON. 



Wha but Maggie an myfell, 
It'll make a wadden right gudie. 



M I T H E R. 



I fear it'll be but a fober wadden, 
Myauldfon Reckle Mahudie. 



SON. 



I believe you'd hae me hae an hod of folk, 
But foul fa' me gin I dudie. 



npHE prettiefl laird in a' the weft, 

And that was Bonnymoon; 
And Teukston was courageous, 
Cry'd for a wanton quean : 

And Boysac he was tender, 
And might nae byde nae wear; 



SCOTS SONGS. 237 

And yet he came courageoufly, 
Without or dread or fear. 

O BoYSAC gin ye die, 

O BoYSAC gin ye die, 

O ITe put on your winding fheet, 

Fine HoUan it Ihall be. 

I'd rather hae Red-Caflle 
And a red rofe in his hand. 
Before I'd hae ye, Boysac, 
Wi' thretty ploughs of land. 

O Boysac, gin ye die, 

O Boysac, gin ye die, 

O ITe put on your winding Iheet, 

Fine HoUan it fhall be. 



AND there fhe's lean'd her back to a thorn, 

Oh, and alas-a-day! Oh, and alas-a-day! 
And there fhe has her baby bom, 

Ten thoufand times good night, and be wi' thee. 

She has houked a grave ayont the fun, 
Oh, and alas-a-day ! Oh, and alas-a-day ! 

And there fhe has buried the fweet babe in, 
Ten thoufand times good night, and be wi thee. 

And (he's gaue back to her father's ha', 
Oh, and alas-a-day ! Oh, and alas-a-day ! 

She's counted the leelefl maid o' them a', 
Ten thoufand times good night and be wi' thee. 



238 SCOTS SONGS. 



O look not fae fweet, my bonny babe, 
Oh, and alas-a-day! Oh, and alas-a-dayl 

Gin ze fmyle fae zell fmyle me dead; 
Ten thoufand times good night and be wi' thee. 



Tune, Peafe Strae, 

'T' H E country fwain that haunts the plain. 

Driving the lightfome plow; 
At night though tired, with love all fired, 

He views the laffie's brow. 
Whan morning comes, inflead of drums, 

The flails flap merrilie; 
To raife the maids out o* their beds. 

To fliake the peafe-llrae. 

Fair Jenny raife, put on her daife, 

Syne tuned her voice to fmg; 
She lang fae fweet, wi' notes compleat, 

Gard a' the echoes ring; 
And a' the males lay by their flails, 

And dance mofl merrily; 
And blefs the hour that fhe had power 

To fhake the peafe-ftrae. 

The mufmg fwain dillurb'd in brain, 

Fafl to her arms he flew. 
And flrave a while, then wi' a fmile, 

Sweet Jenny red in hue. 



SCOTS SONGS. 239 

She faid right aft, I think ye're daft, 

That tempts a laflie fae; 
Ye'll do me wrang, pray let me gang, 

And Ihake the peafe-ftrae. 

My heart, faid he, fair wounded be. 

For thee, my Jenny fair; 
Without a jeft, I get nae reft. 

My bed it proves a fnare. 
Thy image fine, prefents me fyne, 

And takes a! reft me frae ; 
And while I dream, in your efteem 

You reckon me your fae. 

Which is a fign ye will be mine. 

Dear Jenny fay nae na; 
But foon comply, or elfe I die, 

Sae tell me but a flaw. 
If you can love, for none above 

Thee I can fancy fae, 
I would be bleft if I but wift. 

That you would fliake my ftrae. 

Then Jenny fmil'd, faid. You're beguil'd, 

I canna fancy thee; 
My minny bauld, ftie would me fcauld, 

Sae dinna die for me. 
But yet I own I am near grown, 

A woman; fmce its fae, 
I'll marry thee, fyne you'll get me 

To ftiake your peafe-ftrae. 



GLOSSARY. 



GLOSSARY, 



O R 



EXPLANATION of the Scotch Words. 



Some general rules, jewing wherein many Southern 
and Northern words are originally the fame, hav- 
ing only a letter changed for another, or fometimes 
one taken away or added. 



I. In many words ending with 
an 1 after an a or u, the 1 is 
rarely founded. 



Scots. 




Englifh 


A' 




ALL; 


Ba, 




Ball. 


Ca, 




Call. 


Fa, 




Fall. 


Ga, 




Gall. 


Ha, 




Hall. 


Sma, 




Small. 


Sta, 




Stall. 


Wa, 




Wall 


Fou, or 


Fu, 


Full. 


Pou, or 


Pu, 


Pull. 


Woo, oi 


:U, 


Wool. 



11. The 1 changes to a, w, or u, 
after o, or a, and is frequent- 
ly funk before another con- 
ionant; as, 



Scots. 
Cow, 
Faut, 
Faufe, 
Fowk, 
Fawn, 
Gowd, 
Haff, 
How, 
HowmSy 
Maut, 
Pow, 
Row, 
Scawd, 
Stown, 
Wawk, 



Englilh. 
Coll, or Clip. 
Fault. 
Falfe. 
Folk. 
Fallen. 
Gold. 
Half. 

Hole, or Hollow. 
Holms. 
Malt 
Poll. 
Roll. 
Scold. 
Stoln. 
Walk. 



IIL An o before Id, changes to 



a or au ; as, 



Scots. 


Englilh. 


RAwm, 


BAlm 


Bank, 


Baulk. 


Bouk, 


Bulk. 


Bow, 


Boll 


Bowt, 


Bolt 


Caff, 


Calf. 


Vol. 11. (i6) ] 



Scots. 

^Bauld, 

Cauld, 

Fauld, 



Englifh. 
OLD. 
^Bold. 
Cold. 
Fold. 



Hald, or had, Hold. 

Said, Sold. 

Tald, Told. 

Wad, Would. 



242 



Sofne general Rules, &c. 



IV. The o, oe, ow, is changed 
to a, ae, or ai ; as. 



Scots. 


EngUflu 


yi^E, or ane, 


ONE. 


Aeten, 


Oaten. 


Aff, 


Off 


Aften, 


Often. 


Aik, 


Oak. 


Aith, 


Oath. 


Ain, or awn. 


Own. 


Alane, 


Alone. 


Amaift, 


Almolt 


Amang, 


Among. 


Airs, 


Oars. 


Aites, 


Oats. 


Apen, 


Open. 


Awner, 


Owner. 


Bain, 


Bone. 


Bair, 


Bore. 


Baith, 


Both. 


Blaw, 


Blow. 


Braid, 


Broad. 


Qaith, 


Cloth. 


Craw, 


Crow. 


Drap, 


Drop. 


Fae, 


Foe. 


Frae, 


Fro, or from. 


Gae, 


Go. 


Gaits, 


Goats. 


Crane, 


Groan. 


Haly, 


Holy. 


Hale, 


Whole. 


Halefome, 


Wholefomc. 


Hame, 


Home. 


Hait, orhet. 


Hot 


Laith, 


Loath. 


Laid, 


Load. 


Lain, or len. 


Loan. 


Lan& 


Long. 


Law, 


Low. 


Mae, 


Moe. 


Mai(^» 


Molt 


Mair, 


More. 


Hanek 


Moan. 


Maw, 


Mow. 


Na, 


No. 


KaiM^ 


Non& 



Scots. 


Fnglilh. 


Naithing, 


Nothing. 


Pape, 


Pope. 


Rae, 


Roe. 


Rair, 


Roar. 


Raip, 


Rope. 


Raw, 


Row. 


Saft, 


Soft. 


Saip, 


Soap. 


Sair, 


Sore. 


Sang, 


Song. 


Slaw, 


Slow. 


Snaw, 


Snow. 


Strake, 


Stroak. 


Staw, 


Stole. 


Stane, 


Stone. 


Saul, 


SouL 


Tae, 


Toe. 


Taiken, 


Token. 


Tangs, 


Tongs. 


Tap, 


Top. 


Thrang, 


Throng, 


Wae, 


Woe. 


Wame, 


Womh. 


Wan, 


Won. 


War, 


Worfe. 


Wark, 


Work. 


Warld, 


World. 


Wha, 


Who. 


V. The o oi 


' n is freqaentif 


changed 


into i; as. 


Scots. 


EnglHh. 


ANither, 


ANother. 


Bill, 


Bull. 


Bim, 


Bam. 


Brither, 


Brother, 


Fit, 


Foot. 


Either, 


Fother. 


Hinny, 


Honey. ' 


Ither, 


Other. 


Mither, 


Mothdv 


Nits, 


Nuts. 


Nife. 


Nofe; 


Pit. 


Put 


Rin, 


Run. 


Sin» 


Son. 



GLOSSARY. 



243 



ABLINS, perhaps. 
Aboon, above. 

Abbey, the preciiufb of the 
Abbey of Holyroodhoufe 
at Edinburgh, is a lanc- 
tuary for debitors, who 
are fometimes humouroufly 
termed, Abbey-Lairds. 

Abee, let abee, let alone, defift, 
ceafe. 

Aefauld, fincere, without guile. 

Afore, before. 

Afterhind, thereafter. 

Ahint, behind. 

Air, long (ince, early. Air 
up, foon up in the morn- 
ing. 

Airts, points of the com- 
pafs. 

A'ms, alms. 

Amry, a cup-board. 

Anew, enough. 

Ark, a com or meal cheft. 

Aries, earned of a bargain. 

Afe, afhes. 

Afteer, (Urring. 

At ains, or anes, at once, at the 
fame time. 

Attour, befides. 

Awfome, frightful, terrible. 

A-will, of itfelf, of its own 
accord. 

Auld-farran, ingenious. 

Auilie, auilere, haHh. 

X 



• Aurglebaigin, to contend and 
wrangle. 
A-wie, a little. 
Ayont, beyond. 



B 



QADRANS,acat. 

Baid, flaid, abode. 
Bagiie, trafh. 
Bairns, children. 
Band, bond. 
Bang, is fometimes an action 

of hade. We fay, he or it 

came wi* a bang. — A bai^ 

alfo means a great nump 

ber. Of customers she had a 

bang, 
Bangl'd up, fwelled. 
Bangder, a bluf^ering roaring 

perfon. 
Bannocks, a fort of bread 

thicker than cakes, and 

round. 
Baps, rolls of bread. 
Barken'd, when mire, blood, 

^c, hardens upon a thing 

like bark. 
Barlikhood, a fit of drunken 

angry paihon. 
Barrow-trams, the daves of a 

hand-barrow. 
Batts, cholic. 
Bawbee, halfpenny. 
Barley-brie, ale or beer. 
Bauch, forry, indifferent 

2 



244 



GLOSSARY. 



Bawfy, bawfand-fac'd, is a 

cow or horfe with a white 

face. 
Bawty, a dog's name. 
Bedeen, immediately, in hafle. 
B^oud, began. 
Begmtten, all in tears. 
Beik, to ba(k. 
Beild, or bell, a Ihelter. 
Bein, or been, wealthy. A 

been houfe, a warm well fiir- 

nifhed one. 
Beit, or beet, to help, repair. 
Begunk, a trick. 
Bells, bubbles. 
Belt, a girdle. 

Beltan, the 3d of May, or Rood- 
day. 
Ban, curfe. 

Ben, the inner room of a houfe. 
Bennifon, blelfmg. 
Benfell, or benfail, force. 
Bend, draught. 
Bent, the open field. 
Beuk, baked. 
Beurith, fomewhat in the mean 

time. 
Bickering, fighting, running 

quickly ; fchool-boys battling 

with flones. 
Bigg, build. Bigget, built 

Biggings, buildings. 
Biggonet, a linen cap or coif. 
Billy, brother. 
Borroflown, a town or bor- 

rough. 



Byre, a b)rar, a cow-(lalL 

Birks, birch-trees. 

Birle, to drink. Common 
people joining their farthings 
for purchafmg liquor, they 
call it, birling a bawbee. 

Bim, a burnt mark. 

Bim, the flalks of burnt heath. 

Birr, force, flying fwiftly with a 
noife. 

Birs'd, bruifed. 

Bittle, or beetle, a wooden 
mell for beating hemp, or a 
fuller's club. 

Black-a-vic'd, of a black com- 
plexion. 

Blae, pale blue, the colour of 
the fkin when bruifed. 

Blazind leather, tanned lea- 
ther. 

Blaflum, beguile. 

Blate, bafliful. 

Blatter, a rattling noife. 

Bleech, to blanch or whiten. 

Bleer, to make the qre 
water. 

Bleez, blaze. 

Blether, foolifh difcourfe. 
Bletherer, a babler. Stam- 
mering is called blethering. 

Blin, ceafe. Never bUn, never 
have done. 

Blinkan, the flame rifmg and 
falling, as of a lamp when 
the oil is exhaufled. Twink- 
ling. 



GLOSSARY, 



245 



Blink, a glance of the eye, a 
ray of light. 

Boak, or boke, vomit. 

Boal, a little prefs or cup-board 
in the wall. 

Bodin, or bodden, provided or 
fumifhed. 

Bodle, one fixth of a penny 
Englifh. 

Blind-harrie, a game at romps. 

Bodword, an ominous mef- 
fage. Bodwords are now 
ufed to exprefs ill-natured 
melTages. 

Blob, a drop. 

Boglebo, hobgoblin or fpectre. 

Bonny, beautiful. 

Bonywalys, toys, gewgaws. 

Bofs, empty. 

Bouk, bulk, carcafe. 

Bow, or boll, a meafure equal 
to a fack. 

Brankand, gay. 

Bouze, to drink. 

Brochen, a kind of water- 
gruel of oat-meal, butter, 
and honey. 

Brae, the fide of a hill, bank 
of a river. 

Braird, the firfl fprouting of 
corns. 

Brander, a gridiron. 

Brands, calves of the legs. 

Brankan, prancing, a caper- 
ing. 

Branks, wherewith the rulUcs 
bridle their horfes. 

X 



Brattle, noife, as of horfe- 
feet. * 

Brats, rags. 

Braw, brave, fine in apparel. 

Breeks, breeches. 

Brecken, feam. 

Brent-brow, fmooth high fon^ 
head. 

Bridal, wedding. 

Brigs, bridges. 

Brifs, to prefs. 

Brock, a badger. 

Broe, broth. 

Brie, foup, fauce. 

Browden, fond. 

Browfter, brewer. 

Browft, a brewing. 

Bruliment, a broil. 

Buckled, yoked in marriage. 

Bucky, the large fea-fnail. A 
term of reproach when we 
exprefs a crofs-natured fel- 
low, by a thrawn bucky. 

Buff, nonfenfe. As, He ble- 
thered buff. 

Bught, the little fold where 
the ews are inclofed at milk- 
ing-time. 

Buller, to bubble. The motion 
of water at a fpring head, or 
noife of a rifmg tide. 

Bumbazed, confufed. Made 
to flare and look like an 
idiot 

Bung, completely fuddled, as 
it were to the bung. 

Bunkers, a bench, or fort of 

3 



246 



GLOSSARY. 



long low cheils that ferve 

for feats. 
Bumbler, a bungler. 
Bum, a brook. 
Bufk, to deck, drefs. 
Bufline, fuilin (cloth). 
Bat, often for without ; as, 

But feed or favour. 
Bykes or bikes, neils or hives 

of bees. 
Bygane, bypall. 
By-word, a proverb. 
Bees, humours, fancies. 
Bun, the polleriors. 
But and ben, this and the other 

end of the houfe. 
Bl3rth, chearful. 
Broach, a brooch or clafp. 
Balow, hufh : Bas^ la le loup\ 

peace, there is the wolf. A 

phrafe to (lill children. 
Bobit, curtfied. 
Belyve, prefently. 
Bid, pray for, defire. 
Bledoch, buttermilk. 
Bowgil, a horn. 
Brand, fword. 
Bruke, poffefs, enjoy. 
Binge, do obeyfance. 
Bute, advantage. 
Blutter, blunder. 
Brecham, the collar of a work 

horfe. 
Bridal-renzie, a horfe's rein. 
Browny, a kind of gholl or 

familar fpirit. 



(^ A * D about, put about 

Cadie, a cadet. 
Cadgie, happy, chearful. 
Can, 'gan, began. 
Canker'd, angry, paffionately 

fharling. 
Canna, cannot 
Cant, to tell merry old tales. 
Cantrips, incantations. 
Canty, chearful and meny. 
Camilairie, riotous. 
Capemoited, whimfical, ill- 

natur'd, capricious. 
Car, fledge. 
Camea, care not 
Carle, a name for an old man. 
Carline, an old woman. Gire- 

carline, a giant's wife. 
Cathel, an hot pot, made of 

ale, fugar, and eggs. 
Cauldrife, fpiritlefs. Wanting 

chearfulnefs in addrefs. 
Cauler, cool or frefh. 
Cawk, chalk. 
Cafl up, to upbraid. 
Chafts, the chops. 
Chandler, chandelier, a candle- 
flick. 
Chapping, an ale-meafuje or 

floup, fomewhat lefs than an 

Englifh quart. 



GLOSSARY. 



247 



Caftocks, the core and flalk 

of cabbages. 
Chiel, a general term, like 

fellow, ufed fometimes with 

refpe<5l ; as, He's a very good 

chiel ; and contemptuoufly, 

as, That chiel. 
Chirm, chirp and fmg like a 

bird. 
Chitter, to fhiver, to gnafh the 

teeth. 
Chucky, a hen. 
CUm, tribe, family. 
Clank, a fharp blow or (Iroke 

that makes a noife. 
Claihes, chat. 
Clatter, chatter. 
Claught, took hold. 
Claver, to fpeak nonfenfe. 
Claw, fcratch. 
Claife, clothes. 
Clead, to cloath. 
deeding, cloathing. 
Cleck, hatch. 
Cleek, to catch as with a 

hook. 
Cleugh, a den betwixt two 

rocks. 
Clinty, hard, ftony. 
Clock, a beetle. 
Clotted, the fall of any foft 

moid thing. 
Clofs, a court or fquare; and 

frequently a lane or alley. 
Clour, the little lump that rifes 

on the head, occafioned by 

a blow or fall. 



Clute or cloot, hoof of cows 
or ftieep. 

Cockit, cocked. 

Cockemony, the gathering of 
a woman's hair when it is 
wrapt or fnooied up with a 
band or fnood. 

Cod, a pillow. 

Coft, bought. 

Cog, a pretty large wooden 
difh the country people put 
their pottage in. 

Cogle, when a thing moves 
backwards and forwards, in- 
clining to fall. 

Coodies, a fmall wooden veffel, 
ufed by fome for chamber- 
pots. 

Coof, a ftupid fellow. 

Coor, to cover. 

Coot, the ankle. 

Coofer, a fton'd horfe. 

Cooft, did caft . Cooflen, thrown. 

Corby, a raven. 

Cofie, (heltered in a convenient 
place. 

Couter, the coulter of a plow. 

Cotter, a fubtenant. 

Cowp, to fall ; alfo a fall. 

Cowp, to change, barter. 

Cowp, a company of people; 
as, merry, fenfelefs, corky 
cowp. 

Cour, to croutch and creep. 

Couth, frank and kind. 

Crack, to chat. 

Craig, a rock. 



248 GLOSSARY. 

Craig, neck. againil another. He fell wi' 

Cog, a pail. a dad. He dadded his head 

Creel, a baiket againft the wall, dr'c, 

Crilh, greeze. Dad, a large piece. 

Croil, a crooked dwarf. Daddy, father. 

Croon or cruve, to murmur or Daft, fooliih, and fometimes 

hum over a fong. The low- wanton. 

ing of bulls. DafHn, folly, watery. 

Croufe, bold. Dail or dale, a valley, a plain, 

Crove, a little hutch or lodge. a ihare. 

Crove, a cottage. Dainty, is ufed as an epithet 

Crummy, a cow's name. of a fine man or woman. 

Cryn, fhrink or become leis by Dander, wander to and fro, or 

drying. faunter. 

Cryned, contradled, fhrunk. Dang, did ding, beat, thrufl^ 

Cudeigh, a bribe, prefent drive. Ding dang, moving 

Culzie, intice or flatter. haflily one on the back of 

Cummers, golTips. another. 

Cun, to taile, learn know. Danton, affright. 

Cunzie or coonie, coin. Dam, to hide. 

Cum, a fmall parcel. Dama, dare not. 

Curfche, a kerchief. A linen Dafh, to put out of covai' 

drefs, wore by our Highland tenance. 

women. Dawty, a fondling, darling* 

Cutled, ufed kind and gaining To dawt, to cocker, and 

methods for obtaining love carefs with tendemefs. 

and friendfhip. Deary, little dear, a term of 

Cutts, lots. Thefe are ufually endearment. 

made of ftraws unequally Deave, to flun the ears with 

cut. noife. 

Cutty, fhort. Dees, dairy maids. 

Deray, merriment, jollity, fo- 
lemnity, tumult, diforder, 

D noife. 

Dem, fecret, hidden, lonely. 

J)AB, a proficient. Deval, to defcend, fall,' hurry, 

Dad, to beat one thing defift 



GLOSSARY. 



249 



Dight, checked, made ready; 

alfo to clean. 
Dike, a walL 
Din, noife. 
Dinna, do not. 
Dings, excells. 
Dirgie, a funeral feilival. 
Dic'd, weaved in figures like 

dice. 
Dirle, a fmarting pain quickly 

over. 
Disjoin, breakfail. 
Dit, to flop or clofe up a 

hole. 
Divet, broad turf. 
Docken, a dock (the herb). 
Doilt, confufed and filly. 
Doited, dozed or crazy, as in 

old age. 
Doggie, a little dog. 
Dole, a large piece, dole or 

fliare. 
Donk, moiil. 
Donfie, affe(5ledly neat Clean, 

when applied to any little 

perfon. 
Doofart, a dull heavy-headed 

fellow. 
Dool, pain, grief. 
Dorts, a proud pet. 
Dorty, proud, not to be fpoke 

to, conceited, appearing as 

difobliged. 
Dofen'd, cold, impotent. 
Dought, could, avail'd. 
Doughty, flrong, valiant, and 

able. 
Douks, dives under water. 



Doufe, folid, grave, prudent. 
Dow, to will, to incline, to 

thrive. 
Dow, dove. 
Dow'd (liquor) that's dead, or 

has lofl the fpirits ; or with- 
ered (plant). 
DowfF, mournful, wanting 

vivacity. 
Dowie, melancholy, fad, dole- 
ful. 
Downa, dow not; i, e. tho' one 

has the power, he wants the 

heart to it 
Dowp, the arfe, the fmall 

remains of a candle, the 

bottom of an egg-lhell. 

Better haff egg as toom 

dowp, 
Drammock and crowdie, meal 

kneaded with water. 
Draff, brewers grains. 
Draggled, draiket; dirtied, be- 

fpattered. 
Drant, to fpeak flow, after a 

fighing manner. 
Dree, to fuffer, endure. 
Dreery, wearifome, frightful. 
Dreigh, flow, keeping at a 

diflance. Hence an ill payer 

of his debts, we call, dreigh. 

Tedious. 
Dribs, drops. 
Drie, fuffer. 
Drizel, a little water in a 

rivulet, fcarce appearing to 

run. 
Droning, fitting lazily, or 



250 



GLOSSARY, 



moving heavily. Speaking 

with groans. 
Droukedy drenched, all wet 
Drowket, drenched, draggled. 
Dabs, mire. 
Duds, duddies, rags, tattered 

garments. 
Dalfe, fea-weed. 
Dung, defeat 
Dunt, ftroke or blow. 
Dunty, a doxy. 
Durk, a poignard or dagger. 
Dynles, trembles, (hakes. 
Dyver, a bankrupt 



Endlang, along. 

Erd, earth. 

Ergh, fcrupulous, when one 

makes faint attempts to do 

a thing, without a fleady 

refolution. 
Erft, time paft. 
Eftler, hewn ftone. Buildings 

of fuch we call, elUer work. 
Ether, an adder. 
Ethercap, a wafp. 
Ettle, to aim, defign. 
Even'd, compared. 
Eydent, diligent, laborious. 



p^ A G S, incites, flirs up. 
Earn, uncle. 

Sard, earth, the ground. 

Earn, yem. 

Edge (of a hill) is the dde or 
top. 

Ee-brie, eye-brow. 

Een, eyes. 

Eild, age. 

Eildeens, of the fame age. 

Eiftlin, eaftem. 

Eith, eafy. Eithar, eafier. 

Elbuck, elbow. 

Elf-(hot, bewitched, (hot by 
fairies. 

Elfon, a (hoemaker's awl. 

Ebitch, wild, hideous, unin- 
habited, except by imaginary 
ghods. 

Elwand, the meafure of an ell, 
or yard. 



JTA, a trap, fuch as is ufed for 

catching rats or mice. 
Fae, a foe, an enemy. 
Fadge, a fpongy fort of bread, 

in (hape of a roll. 
Fag, to tire, or turn weary. 
Fail, thick turf, fuch as are ufed 

for building dykes for folds, 

inclofures, (Sr*^. 
Fain, expreflfes eameft defire; 
as. Fain would I. Alfo 

joyful, tickled with pleafure. 
Fait, neat, in good order. 
Fairfaw, when we wi(h well to 

one, that a good or fair £Eite 

may befal him. 
Fang, the talons of a fowL 

To fang, to grip, or hold 

faft. 
Farles, cakes. 



GLOSSARY. 



25 1 



Faih, vex or trouble. Fa- 
(hious, troublefome. 

Faugh, a colour between white 
and red. Faugh riggs, fal- 
low ground. 

Fauld, fence, inclofure. 

Feck, a part, quantity ; as, 
Maifl feck, the greatell num- 
ber; nae feck, very few. 

Fecklefs, feeble, little, and 
weak. 

Feed or fead, feud, hatred, 
quarrel. 

Feint, the feint a bit, the never 
a bit 

Feinzie, feign. 

Fen, ftiift. Fending, living by 
induflry. Make a fen, fall 
upon methods. 

Ferlie, wonder. 

Femzier, the laft or forerun 
year. 

File, to defile or dirty. 

Fire-fang*d, burnt. 

Fireflaught, a flafli of light- 
ning. 

Fiftle, to ftir. A ftir. 

Fitfted, the print of the foot 

Fizzing, whizzing. 

Flae-lugged, q. d. he has a flea 
in his ear. 

Flafiing, moving up and down, 
raifmg wind by motion, as 
birds with their wings. 

Flags, flalhes, as of wind and 

• fire. 



Flane, an arrow. 

Flang, flimg. 

Flaughter, to pare turf from the 
ground. 

Flaw, lie or fib. 

Fleetch, to cox or flatter. 

Fleg, fright 

Flewet, a fmart blow. 

Fley or flie, to affright 

Fleyt, afraid or terrified. 

Flighteren, fluttering. 

Flinders, fplinters. 

Flit, to remove. 

Flite or flyte, to fcold, chide. 
Flet, did fcolA 

Flowks, foal-fifh. 

Flufhes, floods. 

Fog, mofs. 

Foordays, the morning far ad- 
vanced, fair day-light. 

Forby, befides. 

Forebears, forefathers, an- 
ceflors. 

Forfaim, abufed, befpattered. 

Forfaughten, weary, faint, and 
out of breath with fighting. 

Forgainft, oppofite to. 

Forgether, to meet, encounter. 

Forleet, to forfake or forget. 

Foreflam, the forehead. 

Fouth, abundance, plenty. 

Fow, full, drunk. 

Fozy, fpungy, foft 

Frais, to make a noife. We 
ufe to fay. One makes a 
frais, when they boaft. 



252 GLOSSARY. 

wonder, and talk more of Gaberlunzie, a beggar's wallet 

a matter than it is worthy of, Gaed, went 

or will bear. Gafaw, a hearty loud laughter. 

Fray, bufUe, fighting. To gawf, laugh. 

Freik, a fool, light, impertinent Gait, a goat. 

fellow. Gams, gums. 

Fremit, flrange, not-a-kin. Gang, go. 

Frilled, truiled. Gar, to caufe, make, or force. 

Frufh, brittle, like bread baken Gare, greedy, rapacious, earned 

with butter. to have a thing. 

Fudgel, plump. Gafh, folid, fagacious. One 

Fudder, 128 lb. put for any with a long out-chin, we call 

large quantity. Gafli-gabbet, Gafh-beard. 

FufF, to blow. FufEn, blowing. Gate, way. 
Furder, profper. Gaunt, yawn. 

Furlot, a meafure, being the Gawky, idle,] flaring, idiotical 

4th of a bolL perfon. 

Furthy, forward. Gawn, going. 

Fufh, brought. Gaws, galls. 

Furlet, four pecks. Gawfy, jolly, buxom. 

Fute braid fawing, com to fow Gear, wealth, goods. 

a foot-breadth. Geek, to mock, to loath. 

Fyk, to be relUefs, uneafy. Geed or gade, went 

Genty, handfome, genteeL 
Gerfons, fines paid by tenants. 
G Get or brat, a child, by way of 

contempt or derifion. 
Ghaifl, ghofl. 
QAB, the mouth. To prat Gif, if. 

Gab saegash, Giglet, gilflirt 

Gabbing, pratting pertly. To Gillygacus or gillygapus, a flar- 

give faucy returns when re- ing, gaping fool ; a gorman- 

primanded. dizer. 

Gabbocks, large mouthfuls. Gilpy, a roguifh boy. 

Gabby, one of a ready and eafy Gimmer, a young fheep (ew). 

exprefTion ; the fame with Gin, if. 

Auld-gabbet Gird, to flrike, pierce. 



GLOSSARY. 



253 



Girdle, an iron-plate for toaft- 
ing oat-bread. 

Girn, to grin, iharl; alfo a 
fnare or trap, fuch as boys 
make of horfe-hair to catch 
birds. 

Girth, a hoop. 

Glaiks, an idle good-for-no- 
thing fellow. Glaiked, fool- 
ifti, wanton, light. To give 
the glaiks, to beguile one, 
by giving him his labour for 
his pains. 

Glailler, to bawl or bark. 

Glamour, fafcination. When 
devils, wizards, or jugglers 
deceive the fight, they are 
faid, to call glamour over the 
eyes of the fpe<5lator. 

Glar, mire, oozy matter. 

Gled, kite. 

Glee, to fquint. 

Glee, mirth. 

Gleg, Hiarp, quick, active. 

Glen, a narrow valley between 
mountains. 

Glengore, the foul difeafe. 

Glib, fmooth, Aiding. 

Gloom, to fcoul or frown. 

Glowming, the twilight, or 
evening-gloom. 

Glowr, to dare, look (lem. 

Glunfh, to hang the brow, and 
grumble. 

Goolie, a large knife. 

Goofhet, the clock of a flock- 
ing. 

Vol. 11. 



Gorlings or gorblings, young 

unfledged birds. 
GofTie, goflip. 
Gove, to look broad and fled- 

fail, holding up the face. 
Gowans, daifies. 
Gowden, golden. 
Gowf, befides the known game, 

a racket or found blow on 

the chops, we call a Gowf 

on the haffet. 
Grape, a flable-rake. 
Gutcher, grandfather. 
Gouk, the cuckow. In de- 

rifion, we call a thought- 

lefs fellow, and one who 

harps too long on one fub- 

jedl, a gowk. 
Gowl, a howling, to bellow and 

cry. 
Goufly, ghaflly, large, wafle^ 

defolate, and frightful. 
Grany, grandmother, any old 

woman. 
Grane, to groan. 
Grape, a trident fork; alfo to 

grope. 
Gravy, fauce. 
Gree, prize, vi<5lory. 
Green, to long for. 
Greet, to weep. Grat, wept 
Grieve, an overfeer. 
Grip, to hold fafl. 
Groff, grofs, coarfe. 
Grotts, mill'd oats. 
Grouf, to lie flat on the 

beUy. 

Y 



254 



GLOSSARY 



Grovnche or glnnlhe, to 
grudge. 

Grutten, wept. 

Grit, great 

Gryfe, a pig. 

Gnmption, good ferife. 

Gurly, rough, bitter, cold (wea- 
ther.) 

Grunzie, fnout 

Gefened, when the wood of any 
veffel is fhrunk with drynefs. 

Gytlings, young children. 

Gnfly, favoury. 

Graith all kinds of inflruments. 



H 



P2 Affet, the cheek, fide of the 
head. 

Hawick gill. A gill is a 
meafure for fpirits, contain- 
ing half a pint A Hawick 
gill is a double gill, fo 
named from the town of 
Hawick. 

Hofe, (lockings. 

Halucket, crazy. 

Haddock, a iinall fifli. 

Hinny, honey. 

Hald, dwelling, tenement 

Hodling, hobling. 

Hals-bane, breafl-bone. 

Haf-mark bridal-band, dan* 
delline marriage. 

Hap, covering. 

Heartfome, gladfome, pleafant. 



Hawflock, wool next tibe 
windpipe. 

Haith, in faith. 

Heh! hah! 

Heffs, lodges. 

Hawkies, cows. 

Halflin, partly. 

Hool, the fliell. 

Hodden-gray, a coarfe gray 
cloth. 

Hap, cover. 

Herried, plundered. 

Hubbilfcnow, confulion, up- 
roar. 

Hide, (kin. 

Heck, a rack. 

Hog, a (heep of two years old. 

Hoble flioon, clouted flioes. 

Hagabag, coarfe table linen. 

Haggife, a kind of pudding 
made of the lungs and liver 
of a Iheep, and boiled in the 
ilomack bag. 

Hags, hacks, peat-pits, or 
breaks in mofly ground. 

Hain, to fave, manage nar- 
rowly. 

Halefome, wholefome. 

Hale, whole. 

Halanfliakers, ragamuffins. 

Hameld, domeftic. 

Hamely, friendly, frank, open, 
kind. 

Hanty, convenient, handfome. 

Harle, drag. 

Hams, brains. Harn-pan, the 
fcttlL 



GLOSSARY. 255 

Harfliip, ruin. Hobblefhew, a confufed rout, 

Haufe, to embrace. noife. 

Haih, a floven. Hool, hulk. Hool'd, indofed. 

Haveren, or havrel, id. Hooly, flow. 

Haughs, valleys, or low Hoft or whoft, to cough. 

grounds on the fides of How or hu, a cap or roof- 
rivers, tree. 
Heal or heel, health, or whole. How, low ground, a hollow. 
Heeryellreen, the night before How ! ho I 

yeftemight. Howdered, hidden. 

Heez, to lift up a heavy thing Howdy, midwife. 

a little. A heezy is a good Howk, to dig. 

lift Howms, plains, or river- 
Heft, handle. fides. 
Heftit, accuflomed to live in a Howt ! fy. 

place. Howtowdy, a young hen. 

Heght, promifed; also named. Hurkle, to crouch, or bow to- 

Hempy, a tricky wag, fuch for gether like a cat, hedge-hog^ 

whom the hemp grows. or hare. 

Hereit, ruined in eftate, broke, Hurl-barrow, a wheel-barrow. 

fpoiled. Hut, a hovel. 

Hefp, a clafp or hook, bar, or Hyt, mad. 

bolt ; alfo, in yam, a certain 

number of threads. 

Hether-bells, ',tlie heath-blof- J 

fom. 
Heagh, a rock or deep hill; 

alfo, a coal-pit. TACK, jacket. 

Hiddils or hidlings, lurking, *^ Jog, to prick as with a 

hiding places. To do a pin. 

thing in hidlings, i. e. Jaw, a wave or gufh of water. 

privately. Icefhogles, icicles. 

Hirple, to move flowly and Jee, to incline to one fide. 

lamely. To jee back and fore, is to 

Hirfle^ or hirdfale, a flock of move like a balance up and 

cattle. down, to this and the other 

Ho, a fingle ilocking. fide. 

Y2 



256 



GLOSSARY. 



Jig, to crack, make a noife like 
a cart-wheeL 

Jimp, {lender. 

Jip» gyp^ie. 

Ilk, each. Ilka, every. 

In-kneed, crook-kneed. 

Jow, the toll of a belL 

Ingan, onion. 

Ingle, fire. 

Jo, fweetheart. 

Jowk, a low bow. 

Irie, fearful, terrified, as if 
afraid of fome ghod or ap- 
parition. Alfo, melancholy. 

I'fe, I (hall. 

m, I wilL 

Ides, embers. 

Junt, a laige joint or piece of 
meat 

Jute, four or dead liquor. 

Jupe, to mock. Gibe, taunt 

Ill-far'd, ugly. 

Jack, a piece of armour. 



K 



j^Ale or kail, colewort, and 

fometimes broth. 
Ks^ky, to dung. 
Kain, a part of a farm-rent paid 

in fowls. 
Kame, comb. 
Kanny or conny, fortunate; alfo 

wary, one who manages his 

affairs difcreetly. 
Kebbuck, a cheefe. 



Keckle, to laugh, to be noify. 

Kedgy, joviaL 

Keel, red chalk. 

Keek, to peep. 

Kelt, doth with a freeze, com- 
monly made of native black 
wool. 

Kemp, to drive who (hall per- 
form moil of the fame work 
in the fame time. 

Ken, to know; ufed in Eng- 
land as a noun. A thing 
within ken, L e. within 
view. 

Kent, a long ftaff, fuch as 
ihepherds ufe for leaping 
over ditches. 

Kepp, to catch a thing that 
moves towards one. 

Kith, and kin, kindred. 

Kieft, did caft. Vid. Cooft. 

Kilted, tuckM up. 

Kimmer, a female goflip. 

Kim, a chum, to chum. 

Kift,chefl. 

Kirtle, an upper petticoat 

Kitchen, all forts of eatables 
except bread. 

Kit, a wooden veffel, hooped 
and (laved. 

Kittle, difficult, myderioos, 
obfcure (writings). 

Kittle, to tickle, tickli(h. 

Knacky, witty and facetious. 

Knoit, to beat or drike (harply. 

KnoosM, buffeted and bruifed. 

Knood or knuid, a large lump. 

Know, a hillock. 



GLOSSARY. 257 

Knockit, beat, bruifed. choly. To hold one out of 

Kinublock, a knob. langour, i. e.. to divert him. 

Knuckles, only ufed in Scotch Langfome, tirefome, tedious. 

for the joints of the fingers Langkale, coleworts uncut. 

next the back of the hand. Lap, leaped. 

Kow, goblin, or any perfon one Lapper^d, curdled or clotted. 

Hands in awe to difoblige, Lare, a place for laying, or that 

and fears. has been lain in. 

Ky, kine or cows. Lare, bog. 

K3rth, to appear. He'll kyth Lair, learning. 

in his ain colours. Lave, the reft or remainder. 

Kyte, the belly. Lawin, a tavern reckoning. 

Kurches, a covering for the Lawland, low country. 

neck. Lavrock, the lark. 

Lawty or lawtithjjuftice, fidelity, 

honefty. 
Leal, true, upright, honeft, 
L faithful to truft, loyal. A 

leal heart never lied. 
Learn, flame. 

T Aggert, befpattered, covered Lear, learning, to learn. 

with clay. Lee, untilled ground ; alfo, an 
Laigh, low. open grafly plain, leez. 

Laith, loath, forry. Leglen, a milking-pail with one 
Lane, my lane, by myfelf. lug or handle. 

Late-wake, a fort of feftival at Leman, a lover. 

watching a corpfe. Lemmane, a miftrefs. 

Laird, a gentleman of eftate. Leugh, laughed. 

Lack, want Lew-warm, lukewarm. 

Lak or lack, undervalue, con- Libbit, gelded. 

temn ; as, He that laks my Lick, to whip or beat ; item, a 

mare, would buy my mare. wag or cheat, we call a great 

Landart, the country, or belong- lick. 

ing to it. Ruftic. Lied, ye lied, ye tell a lie. 

Lane, alone. Lift, the Iky or firmament 

Langour, languiftiing, melan- Liggs, lyes. 

(17) Y 3 



2S8 GLOSSARY. 

Lilts, the holes of a wind in- Loun, rogue, whore, villain. 

ftrument of mufick ; hence, Lounder, a found blow. 

Lilt up a fpring. Lilt it out, Lout, to bow down, making 

take off your drink merrily. courtefy. To ftoop. 

Limmer, a whore. Luck, to inclofe, (hut up, faft- 

Limp, to halt. en. Hence Lucken-handed, 

Lin, a cataradl. clofe-fifled ; Lucken Gowns, 

Ling, quick career in a flraight Booths, &c. 

line, to gallop. Lucky, grandmother or goody. 

Lingle, cord, Ihoemakers' Lug, ear. Handle of a pot or 

threed. veffel. 

Linkan, walking fpeedily. Luggie, a difh of wood with a 

Lintwhites, linnets. handle. 

Lint-tap, lint on the diflaffl Luifi, the chinmey. 

Lang-fyne, long ago. Lure, rather. 

Let, hinderance. Lurdan, lazy fot 

Lire, breads ; item, the moft Lyart, hoary, or grey-hair'd. 

mufcular parts ; fometimes 

the air or comple(5tion of the 

face. ^ 
Lirk, a wrinkle or fold. 

Lifk, the flank. ]V4 Aik or make, match, equaL 

Lith, a joint. Maiklefs, matchlefs. 

Loan, a little common near to Mailen, a farm. 

country villages, where they Makly, feemly, well-propor- 

milk their cows. tioned. 

Loch, a lake. Makfna, it is no matter. 

Loo, to love, or lue. Malifon, a curfe, malediction. 

Loof, the hollow of the hand. Mangit, gall'd or bruifed by 

Looms, tools, inftruments in toil or flripes. 

general, veffels. Manfwom, perjured. 

Loot, did let. Mantile, a lady *s mantle or doak. 

Low, flame. Mank, a want. 

Lowan, flaming. March or merch, a landmark, 

Lown, calm. Keep lown, be border of lands. 

fecret. Mavis, thrulh. 



GLOSSARY. 



259 



Marrow, mate, lover 

Muck, dung. 

Meikle, much, great. 

Mou, mouth. 

Monfmeg, a very large an- 
cient piece of ordnance, 
fo called, which was late- 
ly tranfported from the 
caftle of Edinburgh to tjie 
tower of London. It was 
of an enormous bore ; 
and if we rightly remem- 
ber was formed of pie- 
ces of iron, fitted together 
length-ways, and hooped 
with iron rings ; this be- 
ing the plan of all the 
firll pieces of artillery, 
which fucceeding the bat- 
tering engines of the an- 
cients, were employed, like 
thefe, in throwing flones of 
a prodigious weight 

Meal-kail, foup with pot-herbs 
and meal. 

Mill, a fnuff-box. 

Mawn, mown. 

Mittens, worfted gloves. 

Munandy, monday. 

Mottie, fpotted, defiled. 

Milluck, misfortunes. 

Minnin, minnow. 

Maries, waiting-maids. 

Maifler, pifs. 

Marrow, mate, fellow, equal, 
comrade. 

Mafk, to mafli, in brewing. 
Mafking-loom, ma(h-vat. 



Maun, mud. Mauna, muit 

not, may not. 
Meikle, much, big, great, 

large. 
Meith, limit, mark, fign. 
Mends, fatisfa<5lion, revenge, 

retaliation. To make a- 

mends, to make a gratefiil 

return. 
Menfe, difcretion, fobriety, 

good - breeding. Mensfou, 

mannerly. 
Menzie, company of men, 

army, affembly, one's fol- 
lowers. 
Meffen, a little dog, lap-dog. 
Mell, a mallet. 
Midding, a dunghill. 
Midges, gnats, little flies. 
Mim, affe<5ledly modeft. 
Mint, aim, endeavour. 
Mirk, dark. 

Milk-fyth, milk-ftrainer. 
Minny, mother. 
Mifcaw, to give names. 
Mifchance, misfortune. 
Milken, to neglecft, or not 

take notice of one; alfo, let 

alone. 
Miflufhous, malicious, rough. 
Mifters, neceflities, wants. 
. Mony, many. 
Mools, the earth of the 

grave. 
Mool, to crumble. To mod 

in, to partake. 
Moup, to eat, generally uf- 

ed of children, or of old 



26o 



GLOSSARY. 



people, who have but few 
teeth, and make theu: lips 
move fall, though they eat 
but flow. 

Mow, a pile or bing, as of feud, 
hay, flieaves of com, 6*^. 

Mows, jefls. 

Muckle, fee Meikle. 

Murgullied, mifmanaged, a- 
bufed. 

Mutch, coif. 

Mutchken, an Englifh pint. 



N 



"|V[Acky or knacky, clever, 

a(5live in fmall af&irs. 
Nafay, denial. 
Neefe, nofe. 
Nettle, to fret or vex. 
Newfangle, fond of a new 

thing. 
New-mawn, new-moVd. 
Nevel, a found blow with the 

fill. 
Nick, to bite or cheat. 

Nicked, cheated; alfo, as a 

cant word to drink heartily; 

as. He nicks fine. 
Nieft, next. 

Niffer, to exchange or barter. 
Niffnafan, trifling. 
Nignays, trifles. 
Nips, bits. 
Nither, to llraiten. Nithered, 

hungered, or half-ftarved in 

maintenance. 



Nive, the fift. 

Nivefow, a handfiiL 

Nock, notch or nick of an 

arrow or fpindle. 
Noit, fee Knoit 
Nook, comer. 
Nor, than. 
Nowt, cows, kine. 
Nowther, neither. 
Nuckie, new calVd (cow$). 

O 

QE, a grandchild. 

O'er or ower, too much; 

as, A* o'ers is vice, All ex- 

cefs is vicious. 
O'ercome, fuperplus. 
O'erput, to overcome. 
Ony, any. 
Or, fometimes ufed for ere, or 

before. Or day, i. e, before 

day-break. 
Ora, any thing over what's 

needful. 
Orp, to weep with a convulfive 

pant. 
Oughtlens, in the leail. 
Owk, week. 
Ourlay, a cravat 
Owfen, oxen. 
Owther, either. 
Oxter, the arm-pit 



pACE, eafter. 
Paddock, a frog. 



GLOSSARY. 



261 



Paddock -ride, the fpawn of 
frogs. 

Padell, a (hovel. 

Paiks, chaflifement. To paik, 
to beat or belabour one 
foundly. 

Pang, to fqueeze, prefs, or pack 
one thing into another. 

Pap, bread. Take the pap, 
take the bread. 

Partans, crab-fifh. 

Paughty, proud, haughty. 

Paunches, tripe. 

Pawky, witty, or fly in word 
or adtion, without any harm 
or bad defigns. 

Pearlings, lace of threed. 

Peck, the 1 6th of a boll. 

Peer, a key or wharf, 

Peets, turf for fire. 

Pegh, to pant. 

Penfand, thinking. 

Penfy, finical, foppifli, con- 
ceited. 

Perfyte, perfe<5l. 

Perquire, by heart. 

Pett, a favourite, a fondling. 
To pettle, to dandle, feed, 
cherifli, flatter. Hence, to 
take the pett, is to be 
peevifli or fuUen, as com- 
monly petts are when in the 
lead difobliged. 

Pettled, fondled, pampered. 

Pibroughs, fuch Highland tunes 
as are played on bag-pipes 



before them when they go 
out to battle. 

Pig, an earthen pitcher. 

Pike, to pick out, or chufe. 

Pillar, tile dool of repent- 
ance. 

Pimpin, pimping, mean, fcurvy. 

Pine, pain or pining. 

Pingle, to contend, drive, or 
work hard. 

Pirn, the fpool or quill within 
the fliuttle, which receives 
the yam. Pimy (cloth) or a 
web of unequal threads or 
colours, dripped. 

Pith, drength, might, force. 

Plack, two bodies, or the third 
of a penny Englifli. 

Plaid, dripped, woolen cover- 
ing. 

Pleen, complain. 

Pleugh, plow. 

Plucky-faced, pimpled. 

Poortith, poverty. 

Pople or paple, the bubbling, 
purling, or boiling up of 
water. 

Porridge, pottage. 

Pouch, a pocket. 

Pow, flcuU. 

Powny, a little horfe or gallo- 
way; alfo, a turky. 

Powfowdie, ram-head foup. 

Fratick, pra(5lice, art, dra- 
tagem. Priving pratick, try- 
ing ridiculous experiments. 



262 



GLOSSARY. 



Prets, tricks, rogueries. We 
fay, He plaid me a pret, 
I. e, cheated. The callan's 
fou o' prets, /. e, has abund- 
ance of waggilh tricks. 

Prig, to cheapen, or impor- 
tune for a lower price of 
goods one is buying. 

Prin, a pin. 

Prive, prie, to prove or tafle. 

Propine, gift or prefent 

Pryme or prime, to fill or 
fluff. 

Putt a flane, throw a big 
flone. 



QUAT, quit. 
^^^ Quey, a young cow. 
Quhittill, knife. 



R 



T> Acket, blow, box on the 
ear. 

Racklefs, carelefs; one who 
does things without regard- 
ing whether they be good 
or bad, we call him Racklefs 
handed. 

Rae, a roe. 

Rafian, merry, roving, hearty. 

Raird, a loud found. 

Rair, roar. 

Rak or rook, a mifl or fog. 



Rampage, to fpeak and adl 
furioufly. 

Ranting, roufmg, jolly. 

Rape, rope. 

Rafhes, rufhes. 

Ratch, hound. 

Rave, did rive or tear. 

Raught, reached. 

Rax, to flretch. RaxM, reach- 
ed. 

Ream, cream. Whence ream- 
ing; as, reaming liquor. 

Red up, drefs adjuiled- 

Red-wood, mad, furious. 

Redd, to rid, unravel. To 
feparate folks that are fight- 
ing. It alfo fignifies clearing 
of any paffage. I'm redd^ 
I'm apprehenfive. 

Rede, counfel, advice; as, I 
wad na rede ye do that 

Reek, reach; alfo, fmoke. 

Reeft, to rufl, or dry in the 
fmoke. 

Reft, bereft, robbed, forced or 
carried away. 

Reif, rapine, robbery. 

Reik or rink, a courfe or 
race. 

Reveled, entangled. 

Rever, a robber or pirate. 

Rew, to repent. 

Rewth, pity. 

Rice or rife, bulrufhes, bram- 
ble-branches, or twigs of 
trees. 

Rifarts, raddifhes. 



J 



GLOSSARY. 



263 



Rife or ryfe, plenty. 

Rift, to belch. 

Rigs, ridges. 

Rigging, the back or rig-back, 

the top or ridge of a 

houfe. 
Ripples, a weaknefs in the 

back and reins. 
Ripling - kame, a comb for 

dreffmg flax. 
Rive, to rend, fplit, or burft. 
Rock, a diflaff. 
Rood, the crofs. 
Roofe or rufe, to commend, 

extol. 
Roove, to rivet. 
Rottan, a rat. 
Roudes, a term of reproach for 

an old woman. 
Roimdel, a witty, and often a 

fatyric kind of rhime. 
Rowan, rolling. 
Rowfted, grown ftiff, or rufty. 
Rowt, to roar, efpecially the 

lowing of bulls and cows. 
Rowth, plenty. 
Ruck, a rick or flack of hay or 

corns. 
Rude, the red taint of the com- 

pledlion. 
Ruefu, doleful. 
Rug, to pull, take away by 

force. 
Rumple, the rump. 
Rungs, fmall boughs of trees, 

lopped oK 
Runkle, a wrinkle. 



Runckle, to ruffle. 



Q Aebeins, feeing it is. Since. 
Saiklefs, guiltlefs, free, 
forfaken, friendlefs. 

Sail, fhall. Like foud for 
Ihould. 

Samen, the fame. 

Sand-blind, pur-blind, Ihort- 
fighted. 

Sappy, moift, liquorifh. 

Sark, a fhirt. 

Saugh, a willow or fallow- 
tree. 

Saw, an old faying, or pro- 
verbial exprefflon. 

Scad, fcald. 

Scant, fcarce, fmall. Scanty 
tocher, fmall portion. 

Scar, the bare places on the 
sides of hills walhed down 
with rain. 

Scart, to fcratch. 

Scawp, a bare dry piece of 
ftony ground. 

Scon, a cake of bread. 

Scouling, frowning. 

Scowp, to leap or move haftily 
from one place to another. 

Scowth, room, freedom. 

Scrimp, narrow, ftraitened, 
little. 

Scroggs, ihrubs, thorns, briers. 

Scroggy, thorny. 



264 



GLOSSARY. 



Scads, ale. A late name given 

it by the benders. 
Scanner, to loath. 
Sell, felf. 

Serf, vaffal, fervant. 
Seach, furrow, ditch. 
Sey, to try. 

Seybow, a young onion. 
Shaggy, crooked, wry. 
Shan, pitiful, fdly, poor. 
Shanks, limbs. 
Shanks-naigie, on foot 
Sham, cow*s dung. 
Shave, a llice. 
Shaw, a wood or forefh 
Shawl, (hallow. 
Shawn, ftiewn. 
Shawps, empty hufks. 
Sheen, fhining. 
Shield, a ihed. 
Shill, fhrill, having a fharp 

found. 
Shin, the ancle. 
Shire, clear, thin. We call thin 

cloth, or clear liquor, (hire; 

also, a clever wag, a fhire lick. 
Shog, to wag, fhake, or jog 

backwards and forwards. 
Shool, ihovel. 
Shoon, (hoes. 
Shore, to threaten, to cut. 
Shottle, a drawer. 
Sib, a-kin. 
Sic, fuch. 
Sicken, fuch. 
Sicker, firm, fecure. 
Sike, a rill or rivulet, com- 



monly dry in fummer. 
Siller, filver. 
Sindle or fmle, feldonu 
Singit, finged. 
Sinfyne, fmce that time. Lang 

fynfyne, long ago. 
Skaill, to fcatter. 
Skair, Ihare. 
Skaith, hurt, damage. 
Skeigh, fldttifti. 
Skelf, (helf. 
Skelp, to run. Ufed when one 

runs barefoot. Alfo, a (mall 

fplinter of wood. Item^ To 

flog the hips. 
Skiff, to move fmoothly away. 
Skink, a kind of flrong broth, 

made of cows hams or 

knuckles; alfo, to fill drink 

in a cup. 
Skip, leap. 
Skipper, pilot 
Skirl, to fhriek or cry with a 

fhrill voice. 
Sklate, flate. Skailie, is a fine 

blue flate. 
Skowrie, ragged, nafly, idle. 
Skreed, a rent 
Skybauld, a tatterdemalion. 
Sk3rt, fly out haflily. 
Slade or flaid, did Aide, moved, 

or made a thing move eafily. 
Slap or flak, a gap or narrow 

pafs between two hills. Slap, 

a breach in a walL 
Slavering, drivelling or flob- 

bering. 






GLOSSARY. 



265 



Sled, fledge, 

Slee, fly. 

Sleek, fmooth. 

Sleet, a fliower of half-melted 

ihow. 
Sleig, to bedawb or plaifier. 
Slid, fmoothf conning, flippery; 

as, He*s a Aid lown. Slippy, 

flippcry. 
Slippery, fleepy. 
Slonk, a mire, ditch, or flough; 

to wade throw a mire. 
Slote, a bar or bolt for a 

door. 
Slough, huflc or coat. 
Smaik, a filly little pitiful 

fellow ; the fame with 

fmatchet. 
Smirky, fmiling. 
Smittle, infectious or catch* 

ing. 
Smoor, to fmother. 
Snack, nimble, ready, clever. 
Snaw-ba's, jokes, farcafms. 
Sneeil, an air of difdain. 
Sned, to cut 

Sneer, to laugh in derifion. 
Sneg, to cut; as Sneg'd off at 

the web's end. 
Snell, fliarp, fmarting, bitter, 

firm. 
Snib, fnub, cheeky or reprove, 

correct. 
Snifter, to fnuff or breathe 

through the nofe a little 

flopt. 
Snod, metaphorically ufed for 

neat, handfome, tight. 

Vol, IL 



Snood, the band for tying up a 
woman's hair. 

Snool, to difpirit by chid- 
ing, hard labour, and the 
like; alfo, a pitiful grove- 
ling Have. 

Snoove, to whirl round. 

Snotter, fnot. 

Snout, nofe. 

Snurl, to ruffle, wrinkle. 

Snut, to curl the nofe in dif- 
dain. 

Sod, a thick turf. 

Sonfy, happy, fortunate, lucky: 
fometimes ufed for large and 
lufly. 

Sore, forrel, reddifh-coloured. 

Som, to fpunge. 

Sofs, the noife that a thing 
makes when it falls to the 
ground. 

Sough, the found of wind 
amongil trees, or of one 
fleeping. 

Sowens, flummery, or oat- 
meal fowr'd amongfl wa* 
ter for fome time, then, 
boiled to a conflflency, 
and eaten with milk, or 
butter. 

Sowf, to conn over a tune on 
an inflrument. 

Sowm, a fcore of fheep. 

Spae, to foretel or divine. 
Spaemen, prophets, au- 
gurs. 

Spain, to wean from, the 
breafl. 



266 



GLOSSARY. 



Spaity a torrent, flood, or inn- 

ondatioii. 
SpaldingSy fmaU. fiih, dried and 

iklted. 
Spang, a jump; to leap or 

jump. 
Spanl, ihoalder, arm. 
Sped, to dimb. 
Speer, to afk, enquire. 
Spelder, to fplit, ilretdi, draw 

afnnder. 
Spence, the place of the 

honfe where provifions are 

kept 
Spice, pride. 
Spill, to fpoil, abufe. 
Spindle and whorl, infhu- 

ments pertaining to a di- 

fta£ 
Spoolie, fpoil, booty, plun- 
der. 
Spraings, fbripes of different 

colours. 
Spring, a tune on a mufical 

inflrument. 
Sprufh, fpruce. 
Sprutd'd, fpeckl'd, fpotted. 
Spung, purfe. 
Spunk, tinder. 
Spurtle, a flat iron for turning 

cakes. 
Staig, a young horfe. 
Stalwart, flrong and valiant. 
Stang, did fling; alfo, a fling 

or pole. 
Stank, a pool of flanding 

water. 
Sow-libber, fow-gdder. 



Stark, ftrong, robuil. 

Stams, the flars. Stam, a 
iinall moiety. We £ajf 
Ne*er a flam. 

Stay, fleep; as, fet a float 
heart to a flay brae. 

Steek, to fhut, dofe. 

St^h, to cram. 

Stend or flen, to move with a 
hafly long pace. 

Stent, to flretch or extend, to 
tax. 

Stick out, juts out. 

Stipend, a benefice. 

Stint, to confine. 

Stirk, a fleer, or bullock. 

Stoit or flot, to rebound or re- 
flea. 

Stoar, rough, horfe. 

Stool, a feat. The fl:ool of 
repentance is a confpica- 
ous feat in the Prefby- 
terian churches, where 
thofe perfons who have 
been guilty of inconti- 
nence are obliged to ap- 
pear before the congre- 
gation for feveral succef- 
five Sundays, and receive 
a public rebuke from the 
minifler. 

StoU| to cut or crop. A flon, 
a large cut or piece. 

Stound, a fmarting pain or 
flitdL 

Stoup, a can. 

Soup, a drop, a quantity li- 
quid. 



GLOSSARY. 



•269 



Stour, dufl agitated by winds, 

men or horfe feet. To flour, 

to run quickly. 
Stowth, Health. 
Strapan, clever, tall, hand- 
P fome. 

Strath, a plain on a river fide. 
Streek, to ilretch. 
Striddle, to ftride ; applied 

commonly to one that's little. 
Strinkle, to fprinkle or flraw. 
Stroot or flrut, lluff'd full, 

drunk. 
Strunt, a pet To take the 

ftrunt, to be petted or out of 

humour. 
Studdy, an anvil, or fmith's 

ftithy. 
Sturdy, giddy-headed ; iUm, 

ftrong. 
Sture or ftoor, lliff, ftrong, 

hoarfe. 
Sturt, trouble, difturbance, 

vexation. 
Stym, a blink, or a little fight 

of a thing. 
Suddle, to fully or defile. 
Sumph, blockhead. 
Sunkan, fplenetic. 
Sunkots, fomething. 
Sutor, Ihoemaker. 
Swaird, the furface of the 

grafs. 
Swak, to throw, caft with 

force. 



Swankies, clever young fellows. 

Swarf, to fwoon away. 

Swap, to exchange. 

Swafh, fquat, fuddled. 

Swatch, a pattern. 

Swats, fmall ale. 

Swecht, burden, weight, force. 

Sweer, lazy, flow. 

Sweeties, confections. 

Swelt, fuffocated, choaked to 

death. 
Swith, begone quickly. 
Swinger, ftout wencher. 
Swither, to be doubtful whether 

to do this or that. 
Sybows, a fpecies of fmall 

onions. 
Syne, afterwards, then. 



'T' A c K E L, an arrow. 
Taid, toad. 

Tane, taken. 

Tane, the one. 

Taiken, token. 

Tangles, fea-weed. 

Tap, a head. Such a quantity 
of lint as fpinfters put upon 
the diftaff, is called a Lint- 
tap. 

Tape, to ufe any thing fpar- 
ingly. 



* Sic Original Edition; printer's error. 

Z2 



270 



GLOSSARY. 



Tappit-hen, the Scotch quart 

(loup. 
Tarrow, to refufe what we love, 

from a crofs humour. 
Tartan, crofs ftripped Huff of 

various colours, checkered. 

The Highland plaid. 
Tafs, a little dram-cup. 
Tate, a fmall lock of hair, or 

any little quantity of wool, 

cotton, (5r»r. 
Taunt, to mock. 
Tawpy, a foolifli wench. 
Taz, a whip or fcourge. 
Ted, to fcatter, fpread. 
Tee, a little earth, on which 

gameflers at the gowf fet their 

balls before they flrike them 

off. 
Teen or Tynd, anger, rage, 

forrow. 
Tenfome, the number of 

ten. 
Tent, attention. Tenty, cau- 
tious. 
Teugh, tough. 
Thack, thatch. Thacker, 

thatcher. 
Thae, thofe. 
Tharms, fmall tripes. 
Theek, to thatch. 
Thir, thefe. 

Thirled, bound, engaged. 
Thole, to endure, fuffer. 
Thoufe, thou fhalt. 
Thow, thaw. 
Thowlefs, unadHve, filly, lazy, 

heavy. 



Thraw'-crook, a crooked flick 

for twifting hay or flraw^ 

ropes. 
Thrawart, froward, crois, 

crabbed. 
Thrawin, flem and crofs- 

grained. 
Threep, to aver, alledge, uige^ 

and affirm boldly. 
Thud, a blafl, blow, florm, or 

the violent found of thefe. 

Cr/d, heh at ilka thud; /. e, 

gave a groan at every blow. 
Tid, tide or time; proper time; 

as, He took the tid. 
Tift, good order, health. 
Tight, neat. 

Tine, to lofe. Tint, loft 
Tike, dog. 
Tinkler, tinker. 
Tinfel, lofs. 
Tip, or tippony, ale fold for 

2d. the Scotch pint. 
Tirl at the pin, rap with the 

knocker. 
Tirl or tir, to uncover a houfe, 

or undrefs a perfon ; flrip 

one naked. Sometimes a 

fhort action is named a 
' Tirle; as. They took a tirle 

of dancing, drinking, &c. 
Titty, fifler. 
Tocher, portion, dowry. 
Tod, a fox. 

Todling, reeling, tottering. 
Tooly, to fight. A fight or 

quarrel. 
Toom, empty ; applied to 



GLOSSARY. 271 

a barrel, purfe, houfe, &*c. Ugfome, hateful, naufeous, 

Ilem, to empty. horrible. 

Tofti, tight, neat. Umwhile, the late, or deceafed, 

Tovy, warm, pleafant, half fome time ago. Of old. 

fuddled. Undocht or wandocht, a fiUy, 

To the fore, in being, alive, weak perfon. 

unconfumed. Uneith, not eafy. 

Toufe or touzle, to rumple, Ungeard, naked, not clad, rni- 

teaze. hameffed. 

Tout, the found of a horn or Unko, or unco, uncoutli, 

trumpet. ftrange. 

Tow, a rope. A Tyburn Unloofome, unlovely. 

neck-lace, or St Johnfloun 

ribband. Vougy, elevated, proud. That 

Towmond, a year or twelve- boails or brags of any 

month. thing. 
Trewes, hofe and breeches all 

of a piece. ..^ 

Trig, neat, handfome. 

Troke, exchange. 

True, to true, truft, believe ; ^y AD or wed, pledge, wager, 

as. True, ye fae? or Lave pawn; alfo, would. 

gars me trtieye. Waff, wandering, by itfelf. 

Trencher, wooden platter. Wak, moifl, wet. 

Tiyft, appointment. Wakrife, wakeful. 

Twin, to part with, to feparate Waladay! alas! wellodayl 

from* Wale, to pick and chufe. The 

Twitch, touch. wale, /. e, the beft. 

Twinters, flieep of two years Wallets, bags. 

old- Wallop, to move fwiftly, with 

Tydie, plump, fat, lucky. much agitation. 

Tynd, vide Teen. Wally, chofen, beautiful, lai^. 

Tyft, to entice, ftir up, allure. A bonny wally, *. e, a fine 

thing. 

U Wame, womb. 

Wamill, ilomach turns. 

UGG, to detefl, hate, nau Wandought, want of dought, 

feate. impotent 

Z3 



272 



GLOSSARY. 



Waneafe, uneafinefs. 
Wangrace, wickedneis, want 

of grace. 
Wap, a fudden ilroke. 
War, worfe. 
Ware, goods, to fpend. 
Warlock, wizard. 
Wat or wit, to knOw. 
Waught a large draught. 
Waughts, drinks largely. 
Wearifu', woefiil. 
Wee, little; as, A wanton wee 

thing. 
Wean or wee ane, a child. 
Ween, thought, imagined, fup- 

pofed. 
Weer, to flop or oppofe. 
Weir, war. 

Weird, fate or deftiny. 
Weit, rain. 

Werfti, infipid, wallowifh, want- 
ing fait 
Weftlin, weftem. 
Whang, a large portion of any 

thing. 
Whauk, whip, beat, flog. 
Whid, to fly quickly. A whid 

is a hafl;y flight. 
Whilk, which. 
Whilly, to cheat. Whillywha, 

a cheat 
Whinging, whining, fpeaking 

with a doleful tone. 
Whinger, hanger. 
Whins, furze. 
Whifl, hufht Hold your peace. 



Whiflc, to pull out haflily. 

Whomlit, turned upfide 
down. 

Wight, flout, clever, aAive, 
item, a man or perfon. 

Wilks, perriwinkles. 

Wimpling, a turning back- 
ward and foreward, wind- 
ing like the meanders of a 
river. 

Win or won, to refide, 
dwell. 

Winna, will not. 

Winnocks, windows. 

Winfom, gaining, defirable, 
agreeable, complete, large; 
we fay, My winfome love. 

Wirrykow, a bugbear. 

Wifent, parched, dry, wi- 
thered. 

Wiflle, to exchange (money). 

Witherfhins, crofs motion, or 
againfl the fun. 

Won, to refide, to dwelL 

Woo or W, wool; as in flic 

whim of making five words 

out of four letters, thus, 

2, a, e, w; (i. e.) Is it all 

one wool? 

Wood, mad. 

Woody, the gallows. 

Wordy, worthy. 

Wow I flrange ! wonderful! 

Wrath, a fpirit, . or phan- 
tom. 

Wreaths (of fhow), when 



GLOSSARY. 



273 



heaps of it are blown to- 
gether by the wind. 

Wyfing, inclining. To wyfe, 
to lead, train. 

Wyfon, the gullet. 

Wyte, to blame. Blame. 



Y A M P H , to bark, or make 

a noife like little dogs. 
Yap, hungry, having a longing 

defire for any thing. 
Yamers, a cry of fowls, as, 

caj ca. 
Yealtou, yea wilt thou. 



Yed, to contend, wrangle. 
Yeld, barren, as a cow that 

gives no milk. 
Yerk, to do any thing with 

celerity. 
Yerd, earth. 
Yeflc, the hiccup. 
Yett, gate. 

Yeftreen, yeflemight. 
Yied, went. 
Youdith, youthfulnefs. 
Yowden, wearied. 
Yowls, bowlings, fcreams. 
Yowf, a fwinging blow. 
Yuke, the itch. 
Yule, Chriflmas. 



INDEX. 

N. B. The Figures refer to the Page, and the 
Numerals to the Volume. 



ABOUT zule quhen the wind blew cule, i 17 
As Bothwell was walking in the lowlands 

alane, i 83 

As it fell out on a long rummer's day, i 85 

As I was walking aU alone, i 95 

A' the boys of merry Linkim, i 96 

A better mafon than Lammikin, i 145 

An thou wert mine ain thing, i 171 

Awake, my love, with genial ray, i 188 

As I came in by Tiviot-fide, i 201 

Adieu, ye dreams that fmoothly glide, i 215 

Ah, Chloris, could I now but fit, i 219 

Ah, the fhepherd's mournful fate, i 220 

Adieu, for a while, my native green plains, i 242 

As walking forth to view the plain, i 245 

As I went forth to view the fpring, i 265 

As Sylvia in a foreft lay, i 270 

As from a rock pail all relief, i 271 

At Polwart on the green, i 273 

A lafs that was laden'd with care, i 286 

Alas, when charming Sylvia's gone, i 295 

At fetting day and riling mom, i 304 

Auld Rob Morris that wins in yon glen, ii 12 

Altho* I be but a country lafs, ii 30 

A fouthland Jenny, that was right bonny, ii 83 

And rU o'er the muir to Maggie, ii 84 

A cock laird fou cadgie, ii 35 

A'ladie and a laflie, ii 87 

As I fat at my fpinning wheel, ii 95 

An ril awa' to bonny Tweed-fide, ii 119 

Alas ! my fon, you little know, ii I2Q 

(18) 



2/6 I X D 



As Janus gsjr gjn^d Ujrtli Ins w^, ii 134. 

A friend of mine came here jcfiieen, ii I17 

As I was a walkii^ ae Majr-monnn^ ii 165 

As I came in by Filhenawy ii 181 

As Patie came np frae the g^en, ii 188 

And a' that e'er my Jenny had, ii 204 

As I came down bonny Tweed-fide^ ii 214 

As I gaed to the well at e'en, ii 220 

And faie ye weel, my anld wife, ii 222 

As I walk'd by myfel^ I laid to myfel^ ii 229 

And there (he's lean'd her back to a thorn, ii 237 

B 

Balow, my boy, ly ftill and deep, i 65 

Bulk ye, bnik ye, my bonny, bonny bride, i 68 

Beneath a green (hade, a lovely yonng fwain, i 193 

Bulk ye, bnik ye, my bonny bride, i 194 

Befly's beauties ihine fae bright, 1 196 

By fmooth-winding Tay a fwain was reclimng, i 227 

Bleil as th' immortal gods is he, i 235 

Blyth Jocky young and gay, i 235 

Bright Cynthia's power divinely great, i 241 

By a murmuring dream a fair Ihepherdefs lay, i 257 

Beneath a green fhade I fand a fair maid, i 262 

By Pinky houfe oft let me walk, i 269 

Beneath a beech's grateful (hade, i 272 

By the delicious warmne£s of thy mouth, i 278 

Beneath a green willow's fad ominous (hade, ii 5 

Blyth, blyth, blyth was ftie, ii 18 

But are you fure the news is true, ii 152 

Blyth young Befs to Jean did fay, ii 154 

Braw, braw lads of Galla- water, ii 202 

Bonnie lafTiei will ye go, ii 221 

C 

Clavers and his Highlandmen, i 102 

Clerk Colvill and his lufly dame, i 161 

Care, away gae thou frae me, ii 34 

Come carles a* of fumbler's ha', ii 46 

Come» let's hae mair wine in, ii 94 

Cauld be the rebels cafti ii 193 

Cauld luXt in Aberdew, ii 305 



INDEX. 2^^ 

D 

Dumbarton's drums beat bomiy — 6, i 209 

Duty and part of reafon, i 3^3 

Deil tak the wars that hurried Billy from me, i 306 

Down in yon meadow a couple did tarrie, ii 38 

Dear Roger, if your Jenny geek, ii 191 

Donald Cowper and his man, ii 229 

E 

Earl Douglas, than quham nevir knicht, i I44 

F 

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch, i 37 

From Spey to the border was peace and good order, i 45 

Falfe Sir John a-wooing came, i 93 

From anxious zeal and fadlious flrife, i 205 

For ever. Fortune, wilt thou prove, i 250 

Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean, i 256 

For the lack of gold (he's left me, i 258 

From Roflin cafUe's echoing waUs, i 284 

Falfe luve ! and hae ze played me this, ii 6 

Fy let us a* to the bridal, ii 24 

For the fake of fomebody, ii 41 

G 

Gil Morrice was an erle's fon, i i 

God profper long our noble king, i 54 

Gilderoy was a bonny boy, i 73 

Good morrow, fair miilrefs, the beginner of ilrife, ii 5 

Gin ye meet a bonny laifie, ii 42 

Gie me a lais wi' a lump of land, ii 66 

Gude day now, bonny Robin, ii 166 

Gin I had a wee houfe and a canty wee fire, ii 179 

Gae to the ky wi' me, Johny, ii 203 

Gi*e my love brofe, brofe, ii 203 

Green grows the raihes, ii 224 

H 

How blythe, ilk mom, was I to fee, i 181 

Hear me, ye nymphs and eVry fwain, i 190 

How fweetly fmells the fimmer green, i 198 

How happy is the rural clown, i 229 

Happy's the love which meets return, i 260 



278 



I N D 



X. 



How can I be blyth or glad, 

Have you any pots or pans, 

Honefl man, John Ochiltree, 

Hearken and I will tell you how, 

Here awa', there awa', here awa', Willie, 

How dan dilly dow. 

Her fel pe Highland Ihentleman, 

How fhall I be fad, when a hufband I hae, 

Hid from himfel^ now by the dawn. 

Hey how, Johny lad, ye're no fae kind's ye fad 

hae been, 
How lang have I a batchelor been. 





I 




32 




61 




73 




140 




176 




186 




193 




194 




215 


ii 


218 



It fell about the Martinmas, 

It was in and about the Martinmas time. 

It was on an evening fae faft and fae clear, 

I've fpent my time in rioting, 

In the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome, 

I weird, I weird, hard-hearted lord, 

I dream'd a dreary dream lafl night, 

It fell and about the Lammas-time, 

I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you, 

I've feen the fmiling, 

I will awa' wi' my love, 

I had a heart, but now I heartlefs gae. 

In April when primrofes paint the fweet plain, 

I yield, dear laflie, ye have won, 

In a garden fo gre^a in a May morning, 

In ancient times, as fongs rehearfe, 

I thought it ance a lonefome life. 

In yonder town there wons a May, 

In Scotland there liv'd a humble beggar, 

In January lafl, 

Jocky he came here to woo, 

Jocky fou, Jenny fain, 

I was anes a weel-tocher'd lafs, 

Jocky met with Jenny fair, 

I hae a green* purfe, and a wee pickle gowd. 

In winter when the rain rain'd cauld. 

Wee," Original Edition. 



8 

19 
98 

99 
116 

136 

145 

i 153 
i 168 

214 

267 

291 

298 

300 

308 

310 

20 

23 

28 

52 
55 
59 
63 
85 
94 
ii 102 



u 



u 

• • 

u 

• • 

u 

• ■ 

u 



* (t 



INDEX. 277 

In Auchtermuchty dwelt a man, ii 125 

I chanc'd to meet an airy blade, ii 132 

I've been courting at a lafs, ii ^35 

I had a horfe, and I had nae mair, ii 151 

It fell about the Martinmas time, ii I59 

I rade to London yeflerday, ii 163 

I'll go to the green wood, ii 176 

It was on a Sunday, ii 180 

Jocky faid to Jenny, Jenny wilt thou do't, ii 195 

John, come kiis me now, ii 206 

I wifh that you were dead, goodman, ii 207 

I'll trip upon trenchers, I'll dance upon difhes, ii 231 

I hae layen three herring a fa't, ii 225 

I am a poor filly auld man, ii 224 

In fimmer I mawed my meadows, ii 224 

K 

Keep ye weel frae Sir John Malcolm, ii 99 

Keep the country, bonny laiiie, ii 222 

L 

Lord Thomas and fair Annet, i 24 

Lizie Wan fits at her father's bower-door, i 91 

Little wat ye wha's coming, i 117 

Liv'd ance twa luvers in yon dale, i 162 

Love's goddels, in a myrtle grove, i 184 

Leave kindred and friends, fweet Betty, i 196 

Look where my dear Hamilla fmiles, i 197 

Love never more (hall give me pain, i 263 

Lizie Baillie's to Gartartan gane, ii 3 

Late in an evening forth I went, ii 13 

Laflie, lend me your braw hemp-heckle, ii 22 

Look up to Pentland's tow'ring tops, ii 227 

Logan water and Logan braes, ii 230 

M 

March, march, march, i 1^5 

My Iheep I negle<5led, I lofl my (heep-hook, i I74 

My Patie is a lover gay, i 206 

My love was once a bonny lad, i 216 

My dear and only love, I pray, i 236 

V o L. 1 1. A a 



278 



I N D 



X. 



My dear and only love, take heed, i 237 

My foger laddie is oyer the fea, i 292 

My Peggy is a yonng things i 297 
My love has built a bonny fliip, and fet her on the fea, ii 2 

My Jocky bljrth, for what thon'ft done, ii 48 

My daddy is a canker'd carl, ii 64 

Meny may the maid be, ii 70 

My fweetefl May, let love indine thee, ii 99 

My Jeany and I have toil'd, ii 107 

My mithez's ay glowran o'er me, ii 118 

My name is Aigyll : you may think it ftrange, ii 130 

My daddy left me gear enough, ii 143 

My love was bom in Aberdeen, ii I79 

My mither fent me to the well, ii 208 

My daddy he ileal'd the minifler's cow, ii 221 

My wife's a wanton wee thing, ii 230 

N 

Now fpring b^[ins her fmiling round, i 185 

No more my fong (hall be, ye fwains, i 282 

Now Phoebus advances on high, i 287 

Now from rufticity and love, i 302 

Nania/s to the green-wood gane, ii 79 

Now wat ye wha I met yeftreen, ii 117 

Now the fun's gane out of fight, ii 124 

o 

O liilen, gude peopell, to my tale, i 21 

Of all the Scottifh northern chiefs, i 30 

On July feventh, the futhe to fay, i 49 

O waly, waly, up the bank, i 81 

O wha will (hoe my bonny feet, i 149 

Oh, how cou'd I venture to luve ane like thee, i 176 

O BefTy Bell and Mary Gray, i 199 

Once more I'll tune the vocal ihell, i 202 

On Whitfunday morning, i 210 

On Ettrick banks, in a fununer's night, i 212 

O come awa', come awa', i 225 

O had awa', had awa', i 226 

O Bell, thy looks ha'e kill'd my heart, i 228 

One day I heard Mary fay, i 233 



INDEX. 279 

O Mary ! thy graces and glances, 

O Sandy, why leaves thou thy Nelly to mourn, 

O gin my love were yon red rofe, 

O my bonny, bonny. May, 

O law ye Johny cumin, quo' (he, 

O Jeany, Jeany, where haft thou been, 

O mither dear, I 'gin to fear, 

O fteer her up, and had her gawin, 

O wha's that at my chamber-door, 

O will you hae ta tartan plaid, 

O Johny Johnfton was my love, 

O leeze me on your curly pow, 

O luftie Maye, with Flora queen, 

O faw ye my father, or law ye my mother, 

O have I burnt, or have I (lain. 

Old King Coul was a jolly old foul, 

O laifie, art thou deeping yet, 

Our goodman came hame at e'en, 

O dear Peggy, love's beguiling, 

Our king he has a fecret to tell, 

O as I was kift yeftreen, 

O this is my departing time, 

P 
Pain'd with her flighting Jamie's love, 
Peggy, now the king's come, 

Q 

Quhy dois zour brand fae drap wi' bluid, i 63 

R 

Robin is my only joe, 1311 

Return hameward, my heart, again, ii 43 

Rob's Jock came to wooe our Jenny, ii 88 

S 
Sum fpeiks of lords, fum fpeaks of lairds, 
Sound, found the mufic, found it. 
Stately ftapt he eaft the wa'. 
Saw ye the thane o' meikle pride, 
She has called to her her bower-maidens. 
She's prickt herfel, and print herfel, i 159 

A a 3 



• 

1 


285 


• 

1 


294 


• • 

u 


4 


• • 

u 


6 


• • 

u 


45 


• • 

11 


57 


• • 

11 


58 


• • 

11 


97 


• • 

11 


III 


11 


160 


• ■ 

11 


216 


• ■ 

u 


215 


• • 

u 


212 


• • 

11 


208 


• • 

11 


202 


• • 

u 


183 


• • 

11 


167 


11 


172 


• • 

11 


192 


• • 

u 


231 


u 


226 


• • 

11 


225 


• 

1 


258 


• • 

11 


194 



13 

"3 
119 

131 
148 



28o 



I N D 



X. 



Shou'd auld acquaintance be forgot. 

Stem winter has left us, the trees are in bloom. 

Saw ye nae my Peggy, 

Speak on, fpeak thus, and flill my grief, 

Sweet Annie frae the fea-beach came, 

Some iay that kiffing's a fm. 

Saw ye Jenny Nettles, 

Sweet fir, for your courtefie, 

Somnolente, qucefo repente, 

Symon Brodie had a cow, 



u 

U 



i 177 

i 279 
28S 
296 

305 
15 



60 
67 
98 
ii 230 



u 

■ ■ 

u 



The king fits in Dumfermling toune, 

There came a ghoft to Marg'ret's door, 

'Twas at the fearful midnight hour, 

There was three ladies in a ha*, 

There's fome fay that we wan, 

The chevalier, being void of fear, 

The rain runs down thro* Mirry-land toune, 

There go wans are gay, my joy, 

The knight flands in the liable door, 

The fpring-time returns, and clothes the green plains. 

The fmiling mom, the breathing fpring, 

The collier has a daughter. 

The lawland lads think they are fine. 

The lawland maids gang trig and fine, 

Tho* for feven years and mair honour (hou'd reave me, 

*Tis not your beauty nor your wit. 

The laft time I came o'er the muir, 

Tell me, Hamilla, tell me why, 

The mom was fair, faft was the air, 

'Twas fummer, and the day was fair, 

Tho' beauty, like the rofe, 

The lafs of Peaty's mill, 

'Twas in that feafon of the year, 

The filent night her fables wore, 

The bony grey-ey'd mom begins to peep, 

'Twas early in the moming, a moming of May, 

There was a wife won'd in a glen. 



28 
76 

78 

88 

104 

109 

155 
157 
165 

175 
191 

207 

222 

224 

232 

243 

249 

251 

254 

261 

274 

275 

283 

289 

305 
II 

ii 16 



11 



INDEX. 281 

There was a jolly b^;gar, and a begging he was 

bound, ii 26 

The carl he came o'er the craft, ii 33 

The pawkie auld carle came o'er the lee, ii 49 

The gypfies came to our good lord's gate, ii 54 

The maltman comes on Munanday, ii 69 

The meal was dear (hort fyne, ii 76 

'Tis I have fev'n braw new gowns, ii 81 

There was an auld wife had a wee pickle tow, ii 92 

Tarry woo, tarry woo, ii 100 

Tibby has a ilore of charms, ii IQ4 

This is no mine ain houfe, ii 105 

There was ance a May, and Ihe lo'ed na men, ii 108 

The widow can bake, and the widow can brew, ii 1 12 

The yellow-haired laddie fat down on yon brae, ii 126 

'Tis nae very lang fmfyne, ii 136 

There was a bonnie wi* laddie, ii 139 

There liv'd a wife in our gate-end, ii 140 

The ploughman he's a bonny lad, ii 144 

The tailor came to clout the daife, ii 145 

The maid's gane to the miU by night, ii 148 

There came a young man to my daddie's door, ii 150 

There was a ihepherd's fon, ii 156 

There's fouth of braw Jockies and Jennys, ii 169 

The Ihepherd's wife cries o'er the lee, ii 182 

There was a jolly miller once, ii 185 

The dorty will repent, ii 192 

The laird wha in riches and honour, ii 194 

'Twas at the (hining mid-day hour, ii 197 

The mucking of Geordy's byre, ii 201 

The Wren fcho lyes in care's bed, ii 209 

Tibby Fowler o' the glen, ii 223 

There gaed a fair maiden out to waUc, ii 226 

There's a farmer near hard by, ii 232 

There dwells a tod on yonder craig, ii 234 

The prettied laird in a' the weft, ii 236 

The country fwain that haunts the plain, ii 238 

(19) 



282 INDEX. 

W 

Willie's rare, and Willie's fair, i 82 

When Frennet callle's ivied wall, i 142 

Wha will bake my bridal bread, i 167 

Wert thou but mine ain thing, i 173 

When floury meadows deck the year, i 178 

What numbers fliall the mufe repeat, i 180 

When fummer comes, the fwains on Tweed, i 182 

When innocent paftime our pleafures did crown, i 203 

When trees did bud, and fields were green, i 208 

With tuneful pipe and hearty glee, i 211 

Will ye go to the ew-bughts, Marion, i 213 

Whoe'er beholds my Helen's face, i 218 

Why hangs that cloud upon thy brow, i 231 
When Jocky was blefs'd with your love and your truth, i 244 

Whilft I alone your foul pofleft, i 247 

When Phoebus bright the azure Ikies, i 251 

While fome for pleafure pawn their health, i 264 

What beauties does Flora difclofe, i 293 

With broken words, and downcaft eyes, i 295 

When firft my dear laddie gaed to the green hill, i 299 

Were I aiTur'd you'll conllant prove, i 301 

Weel, I agree, ye're fure of me, i 302 

When hope was quite funk in defpair, i 303 

Wo worth the time and eke the place, i 309 

When Meggy and me were acquaint, 131' 

When I think on this warld's pelf, ii 19 

While fops in faft Italian verfe, ii 37 

When we came to London town, ii 40 

When I think on my lad, I figh and am fad, ii 6S 

Wha wadna be in love, ii 72 

Whan I've a faxpence under my thum, ii 106 

Where wad bonnie Annie ly, ii 1 10 

Willie was a wanton wag, ii 1 13 

Woo'd and married and a', ii 1 15 

We're gayly yet, and we're gayly yet, ii 121 

When we went to the field of war, ii 122 

When the iheep are in the fauld, and the ky at hame, ii 196 



INDEX. 283 

When firft my dear Johny came to this town, ii 205 

WTien Ihe came hen ihe bobbit, ii 206 

When I was a wee thing, ii 213 

Will ze go to the wood? quo' Fozie Mozie, ii 210 

Will ye go to Flanders, my Mally — O, ii 223 

When I gaed to the mill my lane, ii 228 

Where will we get a wife to you, ii 235 

Y 

Ye Highlands and ye lawlands, i 20 

Ye fylvan pow'rs that rule the plain, i 188 

Ye gales that gently wave the fea, i 194 

Ye gods ! was Strephon*s pidlure bleft, 1217 

Ye watchful guardians of the fair, i 221 

Young Philander woo*d me lang, i 276 

You meaner beutyes of the night, i 281 

Ye blytheft lads and laffes gay, ii 63 



THE END 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The Editor of the foregoing, propofes to compile 



COLLECTION 



OF 



SELECT ENGLISH SONGS. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX 

TO 

HERD'S COLLECTION 

OF 

ANCIENT AND MODERN 

SCOTTISH SONGS, 

HEROIC BALLADS, &c., 

CONTAINING THE PIECES SUBSTITUTED IN THE I79I REPRINT 
FOR THOSE OMITTED OF THE l^^6 EDITION, &C. 



APPENDIX. 



The Heir of Linne.* 

L I T H E and liflen, gentlemen, 

To fing a fong I will beginne : 
It is of a lord of faire Scotland, 
Which was the unthrifty heir of Linne. 

His father was a right good lord, 
His mother a lady of high degree ; 

But they, alas! were dead, him froe. 
And he lov*d keeping companie. 

To fpend the daye with merry cheare, 
To drinke and revell eveiy night, 

To card and dice from eve to mome, 
It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. 

To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, 
To alwaye fpend and never fpare, 

I wott, an* it were the king himfelfe, 
Of gold and fee he mote be bare. 

Soe fares the unthrifty Lord of Linne 
Till all his gold is gone and fpent ; 

And he mun fell his landes fo broad. 
His houfe, and lands, and all his rent. 

His father had a keen flewarde, 

And J o H N o' the Scales was called hee : 
But John is become a gentel-mon, 

And John has got both gold and fee. 



* This is the only piece of the 1769 Edition (p. 227) not in- 
cluded in that of 1776. 

A 



SCOTS SONGS. 

Sayes* Welcome, welcome. Lord of Timw^^ 
Let nought diffaiib thy meny cheere ; 

Iflfthoa wilt fell thy landes lae broad. 
Good ilore of gold He give thee hoe. 

My gold is gone, my money is fpent; 

My lande now take it mito thee. 
Give me the golde, good J o H N o' the Scales^ 

And thine for aye my lande fliall bee. 

Then J o H N he did him to record draw. 
And J o H N he gave him a godis-pennie; 

But for every pounde that John agreed. 
The lande, I wis, was weil worth three. 

He told him the golde upon the board. 
He was right glad his land to winne : 

The land is mine, the gold is thine. 
And now He be the Lord of Linne. 

Thus he hath fold his land fae broad. 
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne;. 

All but a poore and lonefome lodge. 
That flood far off in a lonely glenne. 

For fae he to his father hecht : 
My fonne when I am gonne, fayd hec. 

Then thou wilt fpend thy land fae broad. 
And thou wilt fpend thy golde fae free. 

But fweare me nowe upon the roode. 
That lonefome lodge thou'lt never fpend; 

For when all the world doth frown on thee^ 
Thou there (halt find a faithful friend. 

The heir of Linne is full of golde : ' 

And come with me, my friends, fayd hee. 

Let's drinke, and rant, and merry msdce. 
And he that fpares, ne'er mote he thee. 

Thev ranted, drank, and merry made. 

Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; 
And then his friends they flunk away; 

Tliey left the unthrifty heire of Linji& 



SCOTS SONGS. 



He had never a penny left in his purfe, 

Never a penny left but three, 
The tone was brafs, and the tone was lead, 

And tother it was white money. 

Nowe well-away, fayd the heire of Linne, 
Nowe well-away, and woe is mee, 

For when I was the Lord of linne, 
I never wanted gold or fee. 

But many a trufty friend have I, 
And why fliold I feel dole or care? 

He borrow of them all by tumes, 
Soe need I not be never bare. 

But one, I wis, was not at home. 
Another had payd his gold away ; 

Another call'd him thriftlefs loone. 
And bade him fharpely wend his way. 

Now well-away, fayd the heir of Linne, 

Now well-away, and woe is me! 
For when I had my landes fae broad, 

On me they liv'd right merrilee. 

To beg my bread from door to door 

I wis it were a brenning fhame : 
To rob and fleal it were a finne : 

To worke my limbs I cannot frame. 

Now He away to lonefome lodge. 
For there my father bade me wend ; 

When all the world fliould frown on mee, 
I there (hold find a trufly friend. 

Away then hyed the heire of Linne 

O'er hill and holt, and moore and fenne, 

Untill he came to the lonefome lodge. 
That flood fo lowe in a lonely glenne. 

He looked up, he looked downe. 
In' hope fome comfort for to winne. 

But bare and lothly were the walles : 
Here's forry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne. 



SCOTS SONGS 



The little windowe dim and darke 
Was huDg with ivy, brere and yewe ; 

Nae fhimmering fonn here ever (hone ; 
Nae halefome breeze here ever blew. 

Nae chair, nae table he mote fpye, 
Nae chearful hearth, nae welcome bed. 

Nought fave a rope with renning noofe. 
That dangling hung up o^er his head. 

And over it in broad letters, 

Thefe words were written fae plain to fee : 
** Ah! grace] cfTe wretch, haft fpent thine all, 

" And brought thyfelfe to penuric? 

" All this my boding mind mifgave, 

" I therefore left this trufty friend : 
" Let it now flieeld thy foule difgrace, 
And all thy ihame and forrows end- " 



«( 



Sorely fhent wi' this rebuke. 

Sorely flient was the heir of Linne, 

His heart, I wis, was neare-to braft. 

With guilt and forrowe, fname and finne. 

Never a word fpake the heire of Linne, 
Never a word he fpake but three : 

"This is a trufty-friend indeed, 
"And is right welcome unto mee." 

Then round his necke the corde he drewe, 
And fprung aloft with his bodie : 

When lo! the cieling burft in twaine. 
And to the ground came tumbling hee. 

Aftonyed lay the heire of Linne, 
Ne knewe if he were live or dead, 

At length he looked, and fawe a bille. 
And in it a key of gold fo redd. 

He took the bill, and lookt it on. 
Strait good comfort found he there : 

It told him of a hole in the wall. 
In which there ftood three chefts in fere. 



SCOTS SONGS. 

Two were full of the beaten golde, 
The third was full of white money, 

And over them in bread letters 
Thefe words were written fae plaine to fee. 

" Once more, my fonne, I fette thee clere; 

" Amend thy life and follies pad ; 
" For but thou amend thee of thy life, 

** That rope muft be thy end at laft." 

And let it bee, fayd the heire of Linne ; 

And let it bee, but if I amend : 
For here I will make mine avow, 

This reade fliall guide me to the end. 

Away then went the heir of Linne ; 

Away he went with a merry cheare : 
I wis he neither ftint ne flayd. 

Till J o H N o' the Scales houfe he came neare. 

And when he came to J o n N o' the Scales, 

Up at the fpeere then looked hee ; 
There fate three lords at the hordes end. 

Were drinking of the wine fae free. 

And then befpake the heir of Linne 

To J o H N o' the Scales then louted hee : 

I pray thee now, good John o' the Scales, 
One forty pence for to lend mee. 

Away, away, thou thriftlefs loone. 

Away, away, this may not bee ; * 

For C H R I s T s curfe on my head, he fayd. 
If ever I truft thee one pennie. 

Then befpake the heire of Linne, 

To J O H N o' the Scales wife then fpake hee ; 
Madame, fome almes on me bellowe, 

I pray for fweet Saint Charitie. 

Away, away, thou thriftlefs loone, 

I fwear thou getteft nae almes of mee ; 

For if we fhold hang any lofel heere, 
The firft we wold begin with thee. 



8 SCOTS SONGS. 

Then befpake a good fellowe. 

Which (at at J o H N o* the Scales his bord ; 
Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne, 

Some time thou waft a well good lord : 

Sometime a good fellow thou haft been, 
And fparedft not thy golde and fee, 

Therefore He lend thee forty pence, 
And other forty if need bee. 

And ever, I pray thee, J o H N o* the Scales, 
To let him fit in thy companee : 

For well I wot thou hadft his land, 
And a good bargain it was to thee. 

Up then fpake him J o H N o' the Scales, 
All wood he anfwer'd him againe : 

Now C H R I s T s curfe on my head, hee fayd, 
But I did lofe by that bargaine. 

And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne, 
Before thefe lords fae faire and free, 

Thou (halt have it back again better cheape, 
By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee. 

I diawe you to record. Lords, he faid. 

With that he gave him a godis-pennee ; 
Now by my fay, fayd the heir of Linne, 

And here, good John, is thy monee. 

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 
And layd them down upon the bord : 

All woe b^one was John o' the Scales, 
Sae flient he could fay never a word. 

He told him forth the gude red gold, 
He told it forth with mickle dinne. 
The gold is thine, the land is mine, 
' And now Ime againe the Lord of Linne. 

Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellowe. 
Forty pence thou didft lend me : 

Now I am againe the Lord of Linne, 
And forty pounds I will give thee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 



Now welladay ! fa)rth Joan o' the Scales, 
Now welladay ! and woe is my life ! 

Yefterday I was Lady of Linne, 
Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife. 

Now fare thee well, fayd the heire of Linne; 

Farewell, good John o' the Scales, faid hee ; 
When next I want to fell my land, 

Good John o' the Scales He come to thee. 



Hardyknute. 

Part IL 
(Vol. I — 14, Ed. 1791.) 

" Return, return, ye men of bluid, 

" And bring me bade my chylde ! " 
A dolefu voice frae mid the ha 

Reculd, wi' echoes wylde. 
Beilraught wi' dule and dreid, nae pouir 

Had Hardyknute at a'; 
Full thrife he raught his ported fpier. 

And thrife he let it fa*. 



" O haly God, for his deir fake, 

" Wha fav'd us on the rude" — 
He tint his praier, and drew his glaive, 

Yet reid wi* Norland bluid. 
" Brayd on, brayd on, my ftalwart fons, 

" Grit caufe we ha to feir; 
" But ay the canny ferce contemn 

** The hap they canna veir." 



" Return, return, ye men of bluid, 

" And bring me back my chylde !" 
The dolefu voice frae mid the ha' 

Recul'd wi' echoes wylde. 
The ftorm grew lyfe throuch a* the lift 

The rattling thunder rang, 
The black rain fhowr'd, and lichtning glent 

Their hamifme alang. 



lo SCOTS SONGS. 

What feir poffeft their boding breells 

Whan, by the gloomy glour, 
The caftle ditch wi' deed bodies 

They faw was fill'd out owr ! 

Quoth HaRDYKNUTE, "I wold toCHRYSTB 

" The Norfe had wan the day, 
** Sae I had keipt at hame but anes, 
" Thilk bluidy feats to flay." 



Wi' fpeid they paft, and fyne they recht 

The bafe- courts founding bound; 
Deip groans fith heard, and throuch the mirk 

Luk'd wiflfully around. 
The moon, frae hind a fable cloud, 

Wi' fudden twinkle fhane, 
Whan, on the caldrifF eard, they fand 

The gude Sir M o r d A c layn. 



Befprent wi' gore, frae helm to fpur. 

Was the trew-heartit knicht; 
Swith frae his lleid fprang Hardyknute 

Muv'd wi' the heavy ficht. 
" O fay thy mailer's fheild in weir 

" His fawmen in the ha', 
" What hatefu chance cold ha the pouir 

** To lay thy eild fae law V 



f" 



To his complaint the bleiding knicht 

Retum'd a piteous mane, 
And recht his hand, whilk Hardyknute 

Claucht ftreitly in his ain : 
" Gin eir ye fee lord Hardyknute, 

" Frae M o R d A c ye maun fay, 
" Lord Draffan's treafoun to confute 

** He us'd his fleddieft fay." 



He micht nae mair, for cruel dethe 

Forbad him to proceid ; 
" I vow to G o D, I winna fleip 

"Till I fee Draffan bleid. 
" My fons, your fifter was owr fair: 

** But bruik he fall na lang 
" His gude betide; my laft forbode 

** He'll trow belyve na fang. 



SCOTS SONGS. II 



" Bown ye my eydeot friends to kyth 

" To me your luve fae deir; 
" The Norfe defeat mote weill perfuade 

" Nae never ye neid feir." 
The fpeirmen wi' a michty Ihout, 

Cry'd, ** Save our mafler deir! 
" While he dow beir the fway bot care 

" Nae riever we fall feir." 



** Return, return, ye men of bluid, 

" And bring me back my chylde ! " 
The dolefu voice frae mid the ha* 

Recul'd wi' echoes wylde. 

I am to wyte, my valiant friends:" 

And to the ha* they ran; 
The ilately dore full ftreitly fteiked 

Wi' iron boltis thrie they fand. 



t( 



tt 



The (lately dore, thouch ftreitly fteiked 
Wi* waddin iron boltis thrie, 

Richt fune his might can eitly gar 
Frae afF its hinges flie. 

** Whar ha ye tane my dochter deir? 
" Mair wold I fee her deid, 
Than fee her in your bridal bed, 
* * For a* your portly meid. 



** What thouch my gude and valiant lord 

" Ly ftretcht on the cauld clay? 
** My fons the dethe may ablins fpair 

** To wreak their fifter*s wae." 
Sae did fhe crune wi* heavy cheir, 

Hyt luiked, and bleirit eyne; 
Then teirs firft wet his manly cheik 

And fnowy baird bedeene. 



" Nae riever here, my dame fae deir^ . . 

" But your leil lord you fee; 
" May hieft harm betide his life 

" Wha brocht fic harm on thee! 
" Gin anes ye may believe my word, 

"Nor am I us*d to lie, 

By day-prime heorHARDYKNUTE 

" The bluidy death (hall die.'* 



(( 



IS SCOTS SONGS. 



The h&\ wbar late the linkis bricht 

Sae gladfum (hin'd at een, 
Whar penants gleit a gowden bleife 

Owr knichts and ladys Ihene, 
Was now fae mirk, that, throuch the boand, 

Nocht mote they wein to fee 
Alfe throuch the fouthren port the moon 

Let fa' a blinkand glie. 



** Are ye in fuith my deir luv*d lord!" 

Nae mair (he docht to fay, 
But fwounit on his hamelt neck 

Wi* joy and tender fay. 
To fee her in iic balefii fort, 

Revived his felcouth feirs; 
But fune fhe raised her comely luik, 

And faw his fa'ing tears. 



" Ye are nae wont to greit wi* wreuch, 

** Grit caufe ye ha I dreid; 
** Hae a' our fons their lives redeemed 

" Frae fiirth the dowie feid?" 
" Saif are our valiant fons, ye fee, 

** But lack their filler deir; 
"When fhe's awa*, bot any doubt, 

" We ha grit caufe to feir." 



" Of a* our wrangs, and her depart, 

** Whan ye the fuith fall .heir, 
*' Na marvel that ye ha mair caufe, 

"Than ye yit weit, to feir 
" O wharefore heir yon feignand knicht 

** Wi' M o R D A c did ye fend? 
" Ye funer wald ha perced his heart, 

** Had ye his ettling kend." 



** What may ye mein my peirles dame? 

** That knicht did muve my ruthe 
" We balefu' mane; I didna doubt 

" His curtefie and truthe. 
** He maun ha tint wi' fma' renown 

" His life in this fell relief; 
** Richt fair it grieves that he heir 

"Met fic an ill relief." 



SCOTS SONGS. ij 

Quoth (he, wi' teirs that down her cheiks 

Ran like a filver fhouir, 
" May ill befa' the tide that brocht 

" That faufe knicht to our tour; 
" Ken yenaDRAFFAN's lordly port, 

"Thouch cled in knichtly graith, 
** Tho' hidden was his hautie luik, 

"The vifor black benethe?" 



" Now as I am a knicht of weir, 

** I thocht his feeming trew; 
"But, that he fae deceived my ruthe, 

" Full fah-ly he fall rue." 
" Sir M o R D A c to the founding ha* 

"Came wi' his cative fere;" 
" My fire has fent this wounded knicht, 

"To pruve your kyndlie care. 

" Your fell maun watch him a' the day, 

" Your maids at deid of night; 
"And F A I R L Y fair his heart maun cheir 

" As flie Hands in his ficht." 
Ne funer was Sir M o R D A c gane, 

Than up the featour fprang; 
"The luve alfe o' your dochtir deir, 

" I fen na ither pang." 

"Tho* Hardyknute lord Draffan's fnit 

" Refus'd wi* mickle pryde; 
" By his gude dame and Fairly fair 

" Let him not be deny'd." 
" Nocht muvit wi' the cative*s fpeech, 

" Nor wi' his ftern command, 
" I treafoun! cry'd, and Kenneth's bkde 

" Was glifterand in his hand. 

" My fon lord D r A F F a N heir you fee 

" Wha means your filler's fay 
" To win by guile, when Hardyknutb 

" Strives in the irie frae." 
"Turn thee! thou riever Baron, turn!" 

" Bauld Kenneth cry'd aloud ; 
" But, fune asDRAFFAN fpent his glaive, 

" My fon lay in his bluid." 



14 SCOTS SONGS. 



** I did nocht grein that bluming face 

** That dethe fae fune fold pale; 
" Far lefs that my trew luve, throuch me, 

** Her brither*s death fold wall. 
** But fyne ye fey our force to prive, 

" Our force we fall ye (haw!" 
** Syne the ftirill -founding horn bedeen 

" He tuik frae down the wa*. 



** Ere the portculie could be flung^, 

" His kyth the bafe-court fand ; 
" When fcantly o* their count a teind 

" Their entrie might gainfland. 
** Richt fune the raging rievers itude 

" At their faufe mailer's fyde, 
" Wha, by the haly maiden, fware, 

** Na harm fold us betide. 



** What fyne befel ye well may guefs, 

" Reft to our eilds delicht" 
** We fall no lang be reft ; by mome 

" Sail Fairly glad your ficht. 
** Let us be gane, my fons, or now 

** Our meny chide our llay; 
" Fareweil my dame; your dochter's luve 

" Will fune cheir your effray." 



Then pale pale grew her teirfu' cheik; 

" Let ane o' my fons thrie 
** Alane gyde this emprize, your eild 

** May ill fie travel drie. 
** O whar were I, were my deir lord, 

** And a' my fons, to bleid! 
** Better to bruik the wrang than fae 

" To wreak the hie mifdede." 



The gallant R o T H s A Y rofe bedeen 

His richt of age to pleid ; 
And Thomas (haw d his (Irenthy fpeir; 

And Malcolm mein*d his fpeid. 
" My fons, your ftryfe I gladly fee, 

" But it fall neir be fayne, 
•* That H A R D Y K N u T E fat in his ha' 

" And heard his fon was (layne. 



SCOTS SONGS. 15 



** My lady deir, ye neid na feir; 

" The richt is on our fyde:" 
Sane rifing with richt frawart hade 

Nae parley wald he byde. 
The lady fat in heavy mude. 

Their tunefu' march to heir, 
While, far ayont her ken, the found 

Na mair mote roun her eir. 



O ha ye fein fum glitterand towir, 

Wr mirrie archers crown' d, 
Wha vaunt to fee their trembling fae 

Keipt frae their country's bound? 
Sic aufum flrength fhaw'd Hardyknute; 

Sic feem'd his (lately meid; 
Sic pryde he to his meny bald, 

Sic feir his faes he gied. 



Wi' glie they paft owr mountains rude, 

Owr muirs and moffes weit; 
Sune as they faw the rifmg fun, 

OnDRAFFAN's touris it gleit. 
O F A I R L Y bricht, I marvel fair 

That featour e'er ye lued, 
Whafe treafoun wrocht your father's bale, 

And fhed your brither's blude ! 



The ward ran to his youthfu' lord, 

Wha fleipd his bouir intill: 
** Nae time for fleuth, your raging faes 

** Far doun the wefllin' hill. 
" And, by the libbard's gowden low 

" In his blue banner braid, 
** That Hardyknute his dochter feiks, 

" And Draffan's dethe, I rede." 



" Say to my bands of mat chiefs micht, 

" Wha camp law in the dale, 
" To bulk their arrows for the fecht, 

** And ftreitly gird their mail. 
** Syne meit me here, and wein to find 

** Nae juft or tumey play; 
** Whan Hardyknute braids to the field, 

" War bruiks ne lank delay." 



16 SCOTS SONGS. 



His halbrik bright he brac'd bedeen; 

Fra ilka (kaith and harm, 
Securit by a warlike auld 

Wi' mony a fairy charm. 
A feimly knicht cam to the ha' : 

" Lord DraffanI thee braive, 
** Frae HARDYKNUTEmy worthy loid, 

" To fecht wi' fpeir or glaive/ 



» 



" Your hautie lord me braves in vain 

" Alane his might to prive, 
" For wha, in fmgle feat of weir, 

" Wi' Hardyknute may ftrive?" 
" But fith he meins our ftrength to fey 

** On cafe he fune will find, 
** That thouch his bands leave mine in ire, 

" In force they're far behind. 



" Yet cold I wete that he wald yield 

**To what bruiks nae remeid, 
** I for his dochter wald nae hain 

**Toaehalfo'myfteid." 
Sad Hardyknute apart frae a' 

Leand on his bimift fpeir ; 
And, whan he on his F A I R L Y deim'd. 

He fpar'd nae fich nor teir. 



** What meins the felon cative vile? 

"Bruiks this reif na remeid? 
** I fcom his gylefu vows, ein though 

" They recht to a' his fteid." 
Bound was lord D R A F F A N for the fecht^ 

When lo ! his F A i r L Y deir 
Ran frae her hie bouir to the ha' 

Wi' a' the fpeid of feir. 



Ein as the radie flar of mome 

Peirs throuch a cloud of dew, 
Sae did fhe feim, as round his neck 

Her fnawy arms (he threw. 
** O why, O why, did Fairly wair 

** On thee her thouchtlefs luve? 
** Whafe cruel heart can ettle aye 

" Her father's dethe to pruve ! " 



1 



SCOTS SONGS. 17 

And firll he kifs'd her bluming cheik, 

And fyne her bofom deir ; 
Than fadly tirade athwart the ha', 

And drap'd ae tendir teir. 
** My meiny hide my words wi* care, 

** Gin ony weit to flay 
" Lord Hardyknute, by hevin I fwear 

" Wi' lyfe he faU nae gae." 



" My maidens, bring my bridal gowne, 

" I little trewd yeftrene, 
" To rife frae bonny Draffan's bed 

" His bluidy dcthe to fene." 
Syne up to the high baconie 

She has gane wi' a' her train. 
And fane ihe faw her flalwart lord 

Attain the bleifing plain. 



Owr Neithan's weily (Ireim he fai'd 

Wi' feeming ire and pride ; 
His blafon, gliflerand owr his helm. 

Bare A l l a N by his fyde. 
Richt fune the bugils blew, and lang 

And bludy was the fray ; 
Eir hour of nune, that elric tyde. 

Had hundreds tint their day. 



Like beacon bright at deid of night. 

The michty chief muv'd on ; 
His bafnet bleifmg to the fun, 

Wi' deidly lichtning flione. 
DRAFFANhe focht, wi' him at anes 

To end the cruel ftryfe; 
But aye his fpeirmen thrangin' round 

Forfend their leider's lyfe. 



The winding Clyde wi' valiant bluid 

Ran reiking mony a mile ; 
Few flood the faught, yet dethe alane 

Cold end their irie toil. 
** Wha flie, I vow, fall frae my fpeir 

" Receive the dethe they dreid !" 
Cry'd Draffan, as alang the plain 

He fpurr'd his bluid-red lleid. 



i8 SCOTS SONGS. 

Up to him fune a knight gan prance, 

A* graith'd in filver mail ; 
** Lang have I fought thee throuch the field, 

** This lance will tell my tale !" 
Rude was the fray, tillDRAFFAN's fldll 

O'ercame his youthfu' micht ; 
Perc'd throuch the vifor to the eie 

Was flayne the comely knicht 



The vifor on the fpeir was deft, 

And Draffan Malcolm fpeid ; 
" Ye Ihould your vaunted fpeid this day, 

" And not your ftrength, ha fey'd.^ 
'* Cative, awa ye maun na flie," 

Stout R o T H s A Y cry'd bedeen, 
** Till, frae my glaive, ye wi' ye beir 

** The wound ye fein'd yellrene." 



» 



** Mair o' your kin's bluid ha I fpilt 

** Than I docht ever grein ; 
" See R O T H s A Y whar your brither lyes 

" In dethe afore your eyne." 
Bold R o T H s A Y cry'd wi' lion's rage, 

"Ohatefu', curfeddeid! 
" Sae Draffan feiks our filler's luve, 

** Nor feirs far ither meid !" 



Swith on the word an arrow cam 

Frae ane o' Rothsay's band. 
And fmote ouDraffan's lifted targe ; 

Syne Rothsay's fplent it fand. 
Perc'd throuch the knie to his fierce fleid, 

Wha pranc'd wi' egre pain. 
The chief was forc'd to quit the ftryfe, 

And feik the nether plain. 



His minftrals there wi' dolefii' care 

The bludy (haft withdrew ; 
But that he fae was barr'd the fight, 

Sair did the leider rue. 
** Cheir ye, my mirrie men," Draffan cry'd 

Wi' meikle pryde and glie ; 
" The praife is ours ; nae chieftan bides 

" Wi' us to bate the grie." 



SCOTS SONGS. 19 

That hauty boall heard Hardyknute, 

Whar he lein'd on his fpeir, 
Sae weiried wi' the nune tide heat, 

And toilfum deids of weir. 
The firfl ficht, when he pail the thrang, 

Was Malcolm on the fwaird ; 
** Wold hevin that dethe my eild had tane, 

" And thy youtheid had fpar'd I 



"Draffan, I ken thy ire, but now 

" Thy micht I mein to fee." 
But eir he (Irak the deidly dint, 

Thy fyre was on his knie. 
" Lord Hardyknute, ftryke gif ye may, 

** I neir will flryve wi' thee ; 
** Forfend your dochter fee you flayne 

" Frae whar flie fits on hie I 



** Yeftrene the prieft in haly band 

** Me join'd wi' F a I R L Y deir ; 
" For her fake let us part in peace, 

" And neir meet mair in weir." 
** Oh King of Hevin, what feimly fpeech 

" A featours lips can fend I 
** And art thou he wha baith my fons 

** Brocht to a bluidy end? 



** Hafle, mount thy fteid, or I fall licht, 

** And meit thee on the plain ; 
** For by my forbere's faul, we neir 

" Sail part till ane be flayne." 
" Now mind thy aith," fyne D R A F F A N ftout 

To A L L A N loudly ciyd, 
Wha drew the fhynand blade bot dreid. 

And perc'd his mailer's fyde. 



Law to the bleiding eard he fell, 

And dethe fune clos'd his ein. 
"Draffan, till now, I did na ken 

" Thy dethe cold muve my tein. 
" I wold to C H R Y s T E, thou Valiant youth, 

" Thou wert in life again ; 
** Mayill befa' my ruthlefs wrauth 

** That brocht thee to fic pain ! 

B 



20 SCOTS SONGS- 



tt 



Fairly, anes a' my joy and pryde. 
Now a' my grief and bale, 
" Ye maun wi' haly maidens byde 

" Your deidly faut to wail. 
** To Icolm beir yeDRAFFAN*s corfe, 

** And dochter anes fae deir, 
** Whar flie may pay his heidles luve 

** Wi mony a mournfu' teir." 



Binnorie. 
(1—82.) 

To preferve the tone as well as thefenfe of this Ballad, the burden 
Jkould be repeated through the whole, though it is here omitted 
for the fake of concifenefs. 

'J* H E R E were twa fillers liv^d in a bouir; 

Binnorie, O binnorie ! 
Their father was a baron of pouir. 

By the bonny mildams of Binnorie. 
The youngeft was meek, and fair as the May, 
Whan fhe fprings in the Eaft wi' the gowden day ! 
The eldeft aullern as the winter cauld, 
Ferce was her faul, and her feiming was bald. 
A gallant fquire cam fweet Isabel to wooe; 
Her fifler had naething to luve I true; 
But fill'd was fhe wi' dolour and ire, 
To fee that to her the comelie fquire 
Preferr'd the debonair Isabel : 
Their hevin of luve of fpyte was her hell. 
Till ae ein fhe to her fifter gan fay, 
** Sweet filler, cum let us wauk and play." 
They wauked up, and they wauked down, 
Sweit fang the birdis in the vallie loun ! 
Whan they came to the roaring lin, 
She drave unwitting I sabel in. 
" O fifter ! filler ! tak my hand, 
" And ye fall hae my filver fan; 
** O filler! filler! tak my middle, 
** And ye fall hae my gowden girdle." 
Sumtimes Ihe fank, fumtimes Ihe fwam, 
Till Ihe cam to the miller's dam: 
The miller's dochter was out that ein, 
And faw her rowing down the llreim. 
" O father deir ! in your mill dam 
" There is either a lady or a milk white fwan !** 
Twa da3rs were gane whan to her deir 



1 



SCOTS SONGS. 21 

Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir: 
* ' My luve, my deir, how can you fleip, 

* * Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip? 
** My deir, how can you fleip, bot pain, 
** Whan fhe by her cruel fifter is flain?" 
Upraife he fune in frichtfu' mude, 

** Bulk ye, my meiny, and feik the flude." 

They focht her up and they focht her doun, 

And fpy'd at laft her glillerin' gown : 

They rais'd her wi' richt meikle care; 

Pale was her cheik, and grein was her hair ! 

** Gae, faddle to me my fwdftefl fleid, 

** Her fere, by my fae, for her death fall bleid." 

A page cam rinning out owr the lie, 

** O heavie tiding I bring !" quoth he, 

* * My luvely lady is far awa gane, 
** We weit the feiry hae her tane; 

*' Her filler gaed wood wi' dule and rage,' 

' * Nocht cold we do her mind to fuage. 

**0 Isabel! my fifter!" (he wold cry, 

** For thee will I weip, for thee will I die !" 

" Till late yeftreen in an elric hour 

" She lap frae aft the hicheft touir." 

** Now fleip ftie in peace !" quoth the gallant fquire, 

** Her dethe was the maift that I cold require; 

** But I'll main for thee my Isabel deir, 

** Binnorie, O Binnorie! 
** Full mony a dreiry day, bot weir, 

" By the bonny mildams of Binnorie." 



The Death of Menteith. 
(1-84.) 

g H R I L L Y ftiriek'd the raging wind. 

And rudely blew the blaft ; 
Wi' awfum blink, throuch the dark ha'. 
The fpeidy lichtning paft. 

" O hear ye nae, frae mid the loch, 

** Arife a deidly grane? 
** Sae ever does the fpirit warn, 

** Whan we fum dethe maun mane. 

" I feir, I feir me, gude Sir J o H N, 
** Ye are nae fafe wi' me : 



22 SCOTS SONGS. 

" What wae wald fill my heart gin ye 
"SoldinmyCaftledie!" 

'* Ye neid nae feir, my leman deir, 

** I'm ay fafe when wi' thee; 
** And gin I maun nae wi* thee live, 

** I here wad wifli to die. " 

His man cam rinning to the ha' 

Wi' wallow cheik belyve : 
"Sir John Menteith, your faes are neir, 

" And ye maun flie or ftrive." 



** What count fyne leads the cruel knicht?" 

** Thrie fpeinnen to your ane; 
** I red ye nie, my maifler deir, 

" Wi' fpeid, or ye'U be flain." 

" Tak ye this gown, my deir Sir John, 

** To hyde your (hyning mail : 
** A boat waits at the hinder port 

" Owr the braid loch to fail." 

** O whatten a piteous fhriek was yon 

" That fough^d upo' my eir?" 
** Nae piteous (hriek I trow, ladie, 

" But the rough blaft, ye heir." 

" They focht the callle, till the morn, 
** When they were bown to gae, 

** They faw the boat tum'd on the loch, 
" Sir J o H N ' s corfe on the brae. 



The Braes of Yarrow. 
By Mr. Logan, (i— ii60 

<< 'P H Y braes were bonny. Yarrow flream, 
" When firft on them I met my lover, 
** Thy braes how dreary. Yarrow flream ! 

" When now thy waves his body cover ! 
" For ever now, O Yarrow (bream ! 

" Thou art to me a ftream of forrow; 

For never on thy banks fliall I 

** Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. 



CI 



r^^MttmmmiiliiM^Mi^mmm 






-— - i 



SCOTS SONGS. 23 



* He promis'd me a milk white fteed, 
** To bear me to his father's bowers; 

* He promifed me a little page, 

" To fquire me to his father's tow'rs; 

* He promifed me a wedding-ring, — 

" The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow;- 

* Now he is wedded to his grave, 
Alas ! his watery grave, in Yarrow. 



tt 



* Sweet were his words when laft v^ e met; 
" My paffion I as freely told him! 

* Clafp'd in his arms, I Uttle thought 

" That I fliould never more behold him! 

* Scarce was he gone, I faw his ghofl; 
** It vanilh'd with a fliriek of forrow; 

* Thrice did the water wraith afcend. 
And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow. 



(( 



* His mother from the window look'd, 
** With all the longing of a mother; 

* His little fifler weeping walk'd 

" The green wood path to meet her brother: 

* They fought him eall, they fought him weft, 
" They fought him all the foreft thorough; 

* They only faw the cloud of night, 

" They only heard the roar of Yarrow! 



* No longer from thy window look, 

** Thou haft no fon, thou tender mother! 

* No longer walk, thou lovely maid! 

** Alas, thou haft no more a brother! 

* No longer feek him eaft or weft. 

And fearch no more the foreft thorough: 

* For wandering in the night so dark, 
** He fell a lifelefs corfe in Yarrow. 



* The tear did never leave her cheek, 

** No other youth fhall be my marrow; 

* I'll feek thy body in the ftream, 

" And then with thee I'll fleep in Yarrow." 
The tear did never leave her cheek. 

No other youth became her marrow; 
She found his body in the ftream. 

And now with him Ihe fleeps in Yarrow. 



24 SCOTS SONGS. 

The Child o^ Elle. 

(I— ii8.) 

Q N yonder hill a caftle (lands, 

Wi* walles and towres bedight; 
And yonder lives the Child of £ll£» 
A younge and comely knighte. 

The Child of Elle to his garden went. 

And flood at his garden pale, 
Whan low, he beheld fair Emmeline's page. 

Come tripping doun the dale. 

The Child of Elle he hy'd him thence, 

Y — wis he floode not ftille, 
And foon he mette fair Emmeline's page 

Come climbing up the hille. 

Now C H R I s T E thee fave, thou little foot page. 
Now C H R I s T E thee fave and fee; 

Oh tell me how does thy lady gaye. 
And what may thy tidings be? 



My lady fhe is all woe-begone, 

And the tears they fall from her eyne; 

And aye (he laments the deadly feude 
Betweene her houfe and thine. 



And here (hee fends thee a filken fcarfe, 
Bedewde with many a teare; 

And bids thee fometimes think on her 
Who loved thee fo deare. 



And here (he fends thee a ring of gold. 
The lad boon thou may'd have; 

And biddes thee weare it for her fake 
Whan (he is laid in grave. 

For ah I her gentle heart is broke, 
And in grave foone mud fliee bee, 

Sith her father hath chofe.her a new love 
And forbidde her to think of thee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 25 

Her father hath broucht her a carlifh knight, 

Sir J o H N of the north countraye, 
And within three days (he muft him wedde, 

Or he vowes he will her flaye. 

Now hye thee back, thou little foot page, 

And greet thy ladye from mee. 
And tell her that I, her owne true love, 

Will dye or fette her free. 

Now hye thee backe, thou little foot page, 

And let thy fair ladye know 
This night will I be at her bowre-windowe. 

Betide me weale or woe. 

The boye he tripp'd, the boye he raune, 

He neither flint na flay'd, 
Untill he came to fair Emmeline's bowre. 

Whan kneeling downe he fayd; 

O ladye ! I've been wi* thy own true love, 

And he greets thee well by mee; 
This night will he bee at thy bowre windowe. 

And die or fett thee free. 

Now day was gone and night was come 

And all were faft afleep: 
All lave the lady Emmeline, 

Who fat in her bowre to weepe. 

And fune (he heard her true love's voice, 

Lowe whifpering at the walle ; 
Awake, awake, my dear ladye, 

'Tis I thy true love call. 

Awake, awake, my lady deare, 

Come mount this fair palfrye ; 
This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, 

I'll carry thefe hence awaye. 

Now naye, now naye, thou gentle knicht. 

Now naye, this maye not bee ; 
For aye (hould I tine my maiden fame. 

If sdone I (hould wend wi' thee. 



26 SCOTS SONGS. 



O ladye ! thou with a knicht fo true 

Mayft fafely wend alone ; 
To my lady mother I will thee bring, 

Where marriage Ihall make us one. 

" My father he is a baron bolde 

** Of lynage proud and hye ; 
** And what would he fay if his daughter 

** Away with a knight fhould fly? 

" Ah well I wot he nevir would reft, 
** Nor his meate fhould do him no goode, 

" Till he had flayne thee, Childe of Elle, 
** And feene thy deare heart's bloode. ' 



}} 



O I lady, wert thou in thy faddle fet. 
And a little fpace him fro, 

I would not care for thy cruel father, 
Nor the worft that he could doe. 



O ! lady, wert thou in thy faddle fet, 

And once without this walle, 
I would not care for thy cruel father. 

Nor the worft that might befalle. 

Fair Emmeline figh'd, fair Emmelink wept, 

And aye her heart was woe. 
At lengthe he feizde her lilly-white hand, 

And doune the ladder he drewe. 

And thrice he clafpde her to his brefte. 

And kift her tenderlie; 
The tears that fell from her fair eyes 

Ranne like the fountayne free. 

He mounted himfdfe on his fteede fo talle. 

And her on a fair palfraye, 
And flung his bugle about his necke, 

And roundlye they rode awaye. 

All this behearde her own damfelle. 

In her bed whereas Ihe lay; 
Quoth fliee, My lord Ihall knowe of tins, 

So I ihall have gold and fee. 



SCOTS SONGS. 27 

Awake, awake, thou baron bold ! 

Awake, my noble dame ! 
Your daughter is fled wi' the Child op £lle, 

To doe the deed of fhame. 

The baron he woke, the baron he rofe. 

And callde his merry men all; . 
" And come thou forth, Sir J o H N the Knighte, 

** The ladye is carried to thrall." 

Fair Emmeline fcant had ridden a mile, 

A mile forth of the towne. 
When (he was aware of her father's men 

Come galloping over the downe. 

And fonnoft came the carlifh knight, 

Sir J o H N of the north countraye, 
" Nowe flop, nowe flop, thou falfe tndtour, 

** Nor carry that lady awaye. 



(< 






For fhe is come of high lynage, 
** And was of a lady bom ; 
And ill it befeems thee, a falfe churle's fonne, 
To carry her hence to fcome." 



Now loud thou lyefl. Sir J o H N the Knight, 

Nowe thou doefl lye of me ; 
A knight me gott, and a ladye me bore. 

So never did none by thee. 

But light nowe doune, my lady faire, 

Light down and hold my fleed. 
While I and this difcourteous knighte 
Do try this arduous deede. 

Fair Emmeline figh'd, fair Emmeline weept. 

And aye her heart was woe ; 
While *twixt her love and the carlifh knight 

Pafl many a balefid blow. 

The Child of E lle he fought foe well, 

As his weapon he wavde amain. 
That foone he had flaine the carlifli knight, 

And layd him upon the playne. 



28 SCOTS SONGS. 



And now the baron and all his men 

Full fail approached nye, 
Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe ? 

'Twere now no boote to flye. 

Her lover he put his home to his mouth 
And blew both loud and flirill, 

And foone he fawe his owne merry men 
Come ryding o'er the hill. 

Now hold thy hand thou bold baron, 

I pray thee hold thy hand; 
Nor ruthlefs rend two gentle hearts 

Faft knit in true love's band. 

Thy daughter I have dearly lovde 

Full long and many a day. 
But with fuch love as holy kirke 

Hath freelye faid wee may. 

O give confent Ihe may be mine, 

And bleffe a faithful pare; 
My lands and livings are not fmall 

My houfe and lynage faire. 

My mother ftie was an erle*s daughter. 
And a noble knight my fire — 

The baron he frownde, and tum'd away, 
With meikle dole and ire. 



Fair Emmeline figh'd, fair Emmeline wept. 

And did all trembling iland; 
At lengthe fhe fprang upon her knee; 

And held his lifted hand. 



Pardon, my lord and father deare, 
This fair young knight and mee; 

Trull me, but for the carlilh knight, 
I never had fled from thee. 

Oft have you call'd your Emmeline 
Your darling and your joye; 

O let not then your harfh refolves 
Your Emmeline deftroye. 



SCOTS SONGS. 29 

The baron he ftroak*d his dark-broun cheeke, 

And tum*d his head afyde, 
To wipe away the Halting teare 

He proudly ftrave to hyde. 

In deep revolving thought he ftoode, 

And mus'd a little fpace; 
Then rais'd fair Emmeline from the grounde. 

With many a fond embrace. 

Here take her, Child of Elle, he fayd; 

And gave her lillye hand: 
Here take my deare and only child, 

And wi* her half my land. 

Thy father once mine honour wrong'd 

In dayes of youthful pride; 
Do thou the injury repayre 

In fondnefs for thy bride. 

And as thou love her, and hold her deare 

Heaven profper thee and thine ; 
And now my bleffing wend wi* thee. 

My lovely Emmeline. 



Lord Livingston. 
(I— 132.) 

•* QR A IT H my fwifteflfteid,"faid Livingston, 

** But nane of ye gae wi' me; 
** For I maun awa by myfel alane 
** To the foot of the grenewode tree." 

Up fpak his dame wi' meikle fpeid: 

** My lord I red ye bide; 
** I dreim'd a dreiry dreim laft nicht; 

** Nae gude fall you betide." 

" What fret is this, my lady deir, 

" That wald my will gainfland?" 
** I dreim'd that I gaed to my bouir dore, 

** And a deid man tuke my hand." 



30 SCOTS SONGS. 

** Suith dreims are fcant/* faid the proud baroiiy 

And leuch wi* jearing glie; 
** But for this fweit kifs my winfum dame 

" Neift time dreim better o* me. 



** For I hecht to meit with lord R o T H M A r, 

** To chafe the fallow deer; 
** And fpeid we weil, by the hour o* nune, 

" We fall return bot feir." 

Frae his fair lady's ficht he ftrave 

His ettling fae to hide; 
But frae the grenewode he came nae back. 

Sin eir that deidly tide. 

For R o T H M A R met him there bot fail, 

And bluidy was the flxife; 
Laii^ eir the nunetide mefs was rung, 

They baith were twin'd o* life. 

** Forgie, forgie me, Livingston! 

"That I lichtly fet b/your dame; 
"For furely in a* the warld lives not 
A lady mair free frae blame. 



({ 



" Accurfed be my lawles luve 
" That wrocht us baith fic tein ! 

" As I forgie my friend anes deir, 
** Sae may I be forgien. 

" Thouch ye my counfeil fold ha tane 
** The gate of gyle to efchew I 

" Yet may my faid receive fic grace 
" As I now gie to you." ' 

The lady in her moumfa' bouir 

Sat wi* richt heavy cheir. 
In ilka fough that the laigh wind gied. 

She weind her deir lord to heir. 



When the fun gaed down and mirk nicht came, 

O teirfu* were her eyne ! 
" I feir, I feir, it was na for nocht 

My dreims were fae dowie yeflreene !" 



SCOTS SONGS. 31 

Lang was the nicht ; but whan the mom cam. 

She faid to her menzie ilk ane ; 
** Hafle, faddle your fields, and feik the grenewode, 

" For I feir my deir lord is flain." 

Richt fune they fand their lord and R o T H M A r 

Deid in ilk ither's arm : 
" I guefs, my deir lord, that luve of my name 

** Alane brocht thee to fic harm. 

** Neir will I forget thy feimly meid, 

" Nor yet thy gentle luve; 
** For fevin lang yeirs my weids of black 

** That I luv'd thee as weil fall pruve." 



Johnny's Gray Breeks. 

(1—228.) 

"lAT" H E N I was in my fe'enteenth year, 
I was baith blythe and bonny, O ; 
The lads lu'd me baith far and near. 

But I lu'd nane but J o H N N Y, O. 
He gain'd my heart in twa three weeks. 

He fpak fae blythe and kindly, O ; 
And I made him new gray breeks ' 

That fitted him mofl finely, O. 

He was a handfome fellow — 

His humour was baith frank and free, 
His bonny locks fae yellow. 

Like gou'd they glitter'd in my ee ; 
His dimpled chin and rofy cheeks, 

And face fo fair and ruddy, O ; 
And, then, a-day, his grey breeks 

Were neither auld nor duddy, O. ' 

But now they are thread-bare worn. 

They're wider than they wont to be ; j 

Thejr're tafhed like and torn , 

And clouted fair on Uka knee. j 

But gin I had a fummer's day, ! 

As I have had right mony, O, 
I'll mak a web o' new gray. 

To be breeks to my J o H N N Y, O. 



32 SCOTS SONGS 

For he's weel wordy o* them, 

And better gin I had to gi'e, 
And I'll tak pains upon them, 

Frae faults I'll ftrive to keep them free. 
To clad him weel fhall be my care, 

And pleafe him a' my ftudy, O ; 
But he maun wear the auld pair 

A wee, tho' they be duddy, O. 



To the Tune of Pll never leave thee, 

(1-252.) 

QH fpare that dreadful thought, 

If I Ihould leave thee! 
May I all pleafure leave, 
Lafs, when I leave thee! 
Leave thee, leave thee! 
How can I leave thee? 
May I all pleafure leave, 
Lafs, when I leave thee! 

By all the joys of love 
I'll never leave thee. 
May I all pleafure leave, 
Lafs, when I leave thee! 
Leave thee, leave thee! 
How can I leave thee? 
May I all pleafure leave, 
Lafs when I leave thee! 



Rondel of Lufe. 
(1—253.) 

L O quhat it is to lufe. 

Lem ye that lift to prufe ; 
Be me, I fay, that no ways may 
The grund of grief remufe : 
Bot ftill decay both nicht and day. 
Lo quhat it is to lufe ! 

Lufe is ane fervent fyre 
Kendillet with defyre; 



SCOTS SONGS. 33 

Short plefour, lang difplefour, 
Repentance is the hyre; 
Ane puir trefour without meffour. 
Lufe is ane fervent fyre. 

To lufe and to be wyifs; 

To rege with gude advyifs; 

Now thus, now than, fo goes the game; 

Incertaine is the dyifs. 

Thair is no man, I fay, that can 

Both lufe and to be wyifs. 

Fie alwayis frpme the fnairi 

Leme at me to beware. 

It is ane pane, and double trane, 

Of endlefs woe and cair. 

For to refrane that danger plane, 

Fie alwayis frome the fnair. 



Twine weel the Plaiden. 
(1—254.) 

Q H ! I hae loft my filken fnood, 
That tied my hair fae yellow: 
I've gi'en my heart to the lad I loo'd; 
He was a gallant fellow. 
And twine it weel^ my bonny dow^ 

And twine it' weel, the plaiden; 
The laffie lojl her filken fnood. 
In plying of the bracken. 

He prais'd my een fae bonny blue, 

Sae lily white my Ikin O, 
And f)nie he prie*d my bonny mow, 

And fwore it was nae fm O. 
And twine it weel, &c. 

But he has left the lafs he loo'd. 

His ain true love forfaken. 
Which gars me fair to greet the fnood 

I loft amang the bracken. 
And twine it weel, &c. 



34 SCOTS SONGS. 

Auld Robin Gray.* 
(1—255.) 

When the (heep are in the fauld and the kye at hame, 
And a' the weary warld to reft are gane; 
The waes of my heart fa' in ftiow'rs frae my ee, 
While my gudeman lies found by me. 

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and he fought me for his bride, 

But faving a crown, he had naething befide; 

To mak* the crown a poun' my Jamie gaid to fea, 

And the crown and the poun* were baith for me. 

He had na been away a twelmonth and a day 
When my mitlier Ihe fell fick, and the cow was ftoun away; 
My father brak' his arm, and my Jamie at the fea, 
And auld RoBiN Gray came a courting me. 

My heart it faid na, and I look'd for J a M i E back ; 
But the wind it blew hard, and the (hip it was a wrack. 
The (hip it was a wrack, why didna' Jenny dee? 

why was (he fpar'd to cry, wae's me ? 

My father coudna' work, and my mither doughtna' fpin; 

1 toil'd day and night, but their bread I coudna' win; 
Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and with tears in his ee, 
Said, Jenny, for their fakes, oh marry me. 

My father argued fair; and my mither didna fpeak. 
But (he look'd in my face till my heart was like to break; 
Sae I gae him my hand, but my heart was on the fea; 
And auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me. 

I hadna' been a wife a week but only four. 
When fitting fae mournfully ae night at the door, 
I faw my Jamie's wraith, for I coudna' think it he. 
Till he faid, I'm come hame, love, to marry thee. 

fair did we greet; and little did we fay; 

We took but ae kifs, and we tore ourfelves away. 

1 wi(h I were dead; but I'm nae like to die; 
How lang (hall I live to cry, O waes me? 

♦ This fong is given by Herd; but the verfions are fo 
different, that the above is given in full, for comparifon. 



' >» -'7 



SCOTS SO N.G S. 35 

I gang like a ghaifl, and I downa' think to fpin; 
I darena' think on J A M i e ; for that would be a fm ; 
But I'll e*en do my beft a gude wife to be, 
For auld Robin Gray is ay kind to me. 



Fair Helen. 

(1-257.) 

J WISH I were where Helen lies, 

Who night and day upon me cries. 
Who night and day upon me cries; 
I wilh I were where Helen lies, 
On fair Kirkonnel Lee. 

Helen fair, O Helen chafte, 
If I were with the, I were bleft; 
Where low thou liefl, and at reft, 
Oh! were I with thee, I'd be bleft, 

On fair Kirkonnel Lee. 

1 wilh my grave were growing green. 
And winding Iheet put o'er my een, 
And winding Iheet put o'er my een; 
I wifh my grave were growing green. 

On fair Kirkonnel Lee. 

Wae to the heart that fram'd the thought, 
And curft the hand that fir'd the Ihot, 
And curft the hand that fir'd the Ihot, 
When in my arms my Helen dropt, 
And died for love of me. 



Leander on the Bay. 
(1-258.) 

L E A n D E R on the Bay 

Of Hellefpont all naked ftood, 
Impatient of delay, 
He leapt into the fatal flood, 
The raging feas, 
Whom none can pleafe, 

C 



36 SCOTS SONGS. 

*Gainfl him their malice (how; 

The heav'ns lowr'd, 

The rain down pour'd, 
And loud the winds did blow. 

Then calling round his eyes, 

Thus of his fate he did complain: 
Ye cruel rocks and fkies ! 

Ye ftormv winds and angry main I 
What tis to mifs 
The lover's blifs, 
Alas I ye do not know; 
Make me your wreck 
As I come back, 
But fpare me as I go. 

Lo yonder Hands the tower 

Where my beloved Hero lies, 
And this is the appointed hour 

Which fets to watch her longing eyes. 

To his fond fuit 

The gods were mute; 
The billows anfwer, no: 

Up to the Ikies 

The furges rife. 
But funk the youth as low. 

Meanwhile the wifliing maid. 

Divided 'twixt her care and love, 
Now does his flay upbraid; 

Now dreads he ihou'd the pafTage prove: 

O fate ! faid (he. 

Nor heav'n, nor thee, 
Our vows (hall e'er divide; 

I'd leap this wall, 

Cou'd I but fall 
By my L E A N D E r's fide. 

At length the rifmg fun 

Did to her fight reveal,' too late. 
That Hero was undone; 

Not byLEANDER's fault, but fate. 
Said (he, I'll (hew, 
Tho' we are two. 



Our loves were ever ^ne: 
This proof I'll give, 
I will not live, 

Nor (hall he die alone. 



SCOTS SONGS. 37 

Down from the wall (he leapt 
Into the raging feas to him, 
Comting each wave (he met, 
To teach her wearied arms to fwim: 

The fea-gods wept, 

Nor longer kept 
Her from her lover's fide: 

When, join'd at lad, 

She grafp'd him faft. 
Then figh'd, embrac'd, and died. 



Blackford Hill. 
(I — 260.) 

'P H E man wha lues fair nature's charms. 

Let him gae to the Blackford Hill; 
And wander there amang the craigs, 
Or down afide the rill; 
That murmuring through the pebbles plays, 
And banks whar daifies fpring; 
While, fra ilk bu(h and tree, the birds 
In fweeteft concert fmg. 

The lintie the (harp treble founds; 

The laverock tenor plays; 

The blackbird and the mavis join 

To form a folemn bafe. 

Sweet Echo the loud air repeats. 

Till a' the valley rings: 

While odorous (cents the wedlin wind 

Frae thoufand wild (lowers brings. 

The Hermitage afide the bum 

In (hady covert lyes, 

Frae Pride and Folly's noify rounds 

Fit refuge for the wife; 

Wha there may (ludy as they lift. 

And pleafures tafte at will, 

Yet never leave the varied bounds 

Of bonny Blackford HUl. 



38 SCOTS SONGS 

Mary's Dream. 
(1—344.) 

THE moon had climb'd the higheft hill, 

Which rifes o'er the fource of Dee, 
And from the eaftem fummit flied 
Her filver light on tow'r and tree. 
When Mary laid her down to fleep, 
Her thoughts on S A N D Y far at fea; 
When foft and low a voice was heard. 
Say, "Mary, weep no more for me." 



She from her pillow gently rais'd 
Her head to alk, who there might be? 
She faw young Sandy fhiv'ring ftand, 
With vifage pale and hollow eye; 
** O Mary dear, cold is my clay, 
"It lies beneath a flormy fea. 
Far, far from thee, I fleep in death, 
So, Mary, weep no more for me. 






** Three flormy nights and flormy days 
** We tofs'd upon the raging main; 
" And long we flrove our bark to fave, 
** But all our flriving was in vain. 
" Ev'n then, when horror chill'd my blood, 
" My heart was fill'd with love for thee: 
** The florm is pafl and I at reft, 
** So, Mary, weep no more for me. 



" O maiden dear, thyfelf prepare, 
** We foon fhall meet upon tnat fhore, 
" Where love is free from doubt and care, 
** And thou and I fhall part no more." 
Loud crow'd the cock, the fhadow fled, 
No more of S a N D Y could fhe fee; 
But foft the pafling fpirit faid, 
" Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!" 



SCOTS SONGS. 39 

The Lammy. 

(2 — 2. ) 

"Yy H A R hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? 
Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? 
IVe been by bum and flowery brae, 
Meadow green and mountain grey, 
Courting o' this young thing juft come'frae her Mammy. 

And whar gat ye that young thing, my boy Tammy? 

I gat her down in yonder how 

Smiling on a broomy know, 

Herding ae wee lamb and ewe for her poor Mammy. 

What faid ye to the bonny bairn, my boy Tammy? 

I praifed her een fae lovely blue, 

Her dimpled cheek and cherry mou; 

I pree'd it aft, as ye may trou — (he faid flie'd tell her Mammy. 

I held her to my beating heart, " my young, my fmiling Lammy ! 
*' I hae a houfe, it coft me dear, 
"I've walth o' plenilhan and gear; 

" Ye'fe get it a' war't ten times mair, gin ye will leave your 
Mammy." 

The fmile gaed aff her bonny face, ** I manna leave my Mammy; 
" She's gi'en me meat, (he's gi'en me claife, 
** She's been my comfort a' my days. 

"My father's death brought mony waes — I canna leave my 
Mammy." 

" We'll tak' her hame and mak' her fain, my ain kind hearted 

Lammy! 
" We'll gi'e her meat, we'll gi'e her claife, 
" We'll be her comfort a' her days; " — 
The wee thing gi'es her hand, and fays, " There, gang and alk 

my Mammy." 

Has (he been to kirk wi' thee, my boy Tammy? 

She has been to kirk wi' me. 

And the tear was in her e'e, — 

But, oh! (he's but a young thing, juft come frae her Mammy. 



40 SCOTS SONGS. 

The Maid that tends the Goats. 

(2—42.) 

"[JP amang yon difty rocks, 

Sweetly rings the rifrng echo, 
To the maid that tends the goats, 
Lilting o'er her native notes. 
Hark ! Ihe fings, " Young Sandy's kind, 
" An* he's promis'd aye to loo me ; 
" Here's a brotch, I ne'er fliall tm'd 
** Till he's fairly marr/d to me. 
** Drive away, ye drone, Time, 
** And bring about our Bridal day. 

"Sandy herds a flock o' flieep; 
** Afen does he blaw the whiflle 
** In a ftrain fae faftly fweet, 
" Lanmiies liil'ning, darena bleat, 
** He's as fleet's the mountain roe, 
" Hardy as the highland heather, 
" Wading thro' the winter fnow, 
" Keeping ay his flock together. 
** But a plaid, wi' bare houghs, 
** He braves the bleakefl norlin blafl. 

** Brawly he can dance and fmg 

** Canty glee or highland cronach; 

** Nane can ever match his fling 

" At a reel, or round a ring. 

" Wightly can he weiid a rung; 

** In a brawl he's ay the bangfler; 

** A' his praife can ne'er be fung 

" By the langeft winded fangfter. 

" Sangs that fing o' Sandy 

" Come fliort, tho' they were e're fo lang. 



}) 



RoY*s Wife of Aldivalloch. 

(2-43-) 

R O Y ' S wife of Aldivalloch, 

Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, 
Wat ye how Ihe cheated me. 

As I cam o'er the braes of Balloch. 
She vow'd, flie fwore ftie wad be mine. 

She faid flie loo'd me befl: of ony. 
But, oh, the fickle faithlefs quean. 

She's ta'en the carl and left her J o H N N I E. 



SCOTS SONGS. 41 

O, ftie was a canty quean, 

Weel cou'd Ihe dance the Highland walloch. 
How happy I, had (he been mine, 

Or Fd been R o Y of Aidivalloch. 
Roy's wife, &c. 

Her hair fae fair, her e'en fae clear, 

Her wee bit mou' fae fweet and bonny, 
To me Ihe ever will be dear, 

Tho' Ihe's forever left her Johnny. 
Roy's wife, &c. 



(2—44.) 

J-J E R (heep had in cluflers kept clofe by the grove, 

To hide from the rigours of day; 
And P H I L I s herfelf in a woodbine alcove, 

Amang the frefti violets lay: 
A youngling, it feems, had been flole from its dame, 

('Twixt Cupid and Hymen a plot), 
That Corydon might, as he fearch'd for his lamb. 

Arrive at this critical fpot. 

As through the gay hedge for his lambkin he peeps. 

He faw the fweet maid with furprife; 
" Ye gods! if fo killing," he ciy'd, ** when (he fleeps, 

" I'm loft when Ihe opens her eyes! 
** To tarry much longer would hazard my heart, 

** I'll onwards my lambkin to trace :" 
In vain honeft Corydon ftrove to depart. 

For love had him nail'd to the place. 

** Hufh, hufh'd be thefe birds, what a bawling they keep ! 

" (He cry'd) you're too loud on the fpray; 
" Don't you fee, foolilh lark, that the charmer's afleep ! 

** You 11 wake her as fure as 'tis day: 
** How dare that fond butterfly touch the fweet maid ! 

** Her cheek he miftakes for the rofe; 
** I'd put him to death, if I was not afraid 

** My boldnefs would break her repofe." 

Young P H I L L I s look'd up with a languiftiing fmile: 

** Kiad fliepherd," (he faid, " you miftake; 

I laid myfelf down juft to reft me a while; 
But, truft me, have ftill been awake. " 
The (hepherd took courage, advanc'd with a bow, 

He piac'd himfelf clofe by her fide; 
And manag'd the matter, I cannot tell how, 

But yefterday made her his bride. 






42 S C O T S S O N G S. 

(2-45. 

AS o'er the mountain's grafly fide 

Brave F i N g a L chas'd the flying deer. 
One at the tomb of R Y N o dy'd; | 

The hero paufed, and wip'd a tear. 

He lean'd upon the mofs-grown ftone: 

** Once formoft in the chafe/' he faid; 
** Thy fports are ended now, my fon I 

" At reft, in the dark houfe thou'rt laid. 



" Now when the enliv'ning Ihell goes round, 
" Amongft the brave in C R O M L a' s hall, 

" My boy (hall there no more be found, 
" Nor anfwer his old father's call ! 

** Thy conquefts all, alas ! are o'er: 

" No more thou'lt face the haughty foe; 

** Nor, when he flies, purfue him more: 
** The ftrong limb'd warrior is laid low. 

** Thy ftone, foon hid amongft the grafs, 
" (Ev'n as the grafs remembrance dies), 

** The feeble carelefs o'er Ihall pais, 

" Nor know that there the mighty lies." 

The hero fpoke — and, with a figh, 
Retiring, mourn' d' the haplefs brave; 

Who like the mean inglorious lie, 
No more remember'd in the grave. 



w^ 



The Lee Rigg. 
(2—47.) 

■^^ I L L ye gang o'er the lee-rigg, 

My ain kind deary, O ! 
And cuddle there- fae kindly 
Wi' me, my kind deary, O? 

At thomie-dike and birken-tree 
We'll daff, and ne'er be weary, O; 

They'll scug ill een frae you and me, 
My ain kind deary, O. 



SCOTS SONGS. 43 

Nae herds wi' kent or colly there, 

Shall ever come to fear ye, O; 
But lav'rocks, whiftling in the air, 

Shall woo, like me, their deary, O ! 

While others herd their lambs and ewes, 

And toil for warid's gear, my jo, 
Upon the lee my pleafure grows, 

Wi' you, my kind dearie, O ! 



John of Badenyon. 
(2—52.) 

■^^ HEN firft I came to be a man. 

Of twenty years or fo, 
I thought m3rfelf a handfome youth. 

And fain the world would know; 
In bell attire I flept abroad. 

With fpirits briflc and gay, 
And here and there and ev'rywhere. 

Was like a morn in May. 
No care I had, nor fear of want, 

But rambled up and down ; 
And for a beau I might have pafl 

In country or in town ; 
I flill was pleased where-e'er I went ; 

And when I was alone, 
I tuned my pipe, and pleafed myfelf 

With J o H N of Badenyon. 

Now in the days of youthful prime, 

A miftrefs I mull find ; 
For love, they fay, gives one an air. 

And ev'n improves the mind : 
On P H I L I s fair, above the reft. 

Kind fortune fix'd my eyes; 
Her piercing beauty ftruck my heart. 

And fhe became my choice : 
To C u p I D then, with hearty pray'r, 

I offered many a vow, 
And danc'd and fung, and figh'd and fwore. 

As other lovers do : 
But when at laft I breath'd my flame, 

I found her cold as ftone ; 
I left the girl, and tun'd my pipe 

To J o H N of Badenyon. 



44 SCOTS SONGS 

When love had thus my heart beguil'd 

With foolifli hopes and vain, 
To friendlhip's port I fteer'd my courfe. 

And laugh'd at lovers' pain : 
A friend I got by lucky chance, 

'Twas fomething like divine ; 
An honefl friend's a precious gift, 

And fuch a gift was mine. 
And now, whatever might betide, 

A happy man was I ; 
In any ftrait I knew to whom 

I freely might apply : 
A ftrait foon came, my friend I try*d, 

He laughed and fpurned my moan ; 
I h/d me home, and pleas'd myfelf 

With John of Badenyon. 

What next to do, I mus'd a while, 

Still hoping to fucceed : 
I pitched on books for company. 

And gravely tried to read ; 
I bought and borrowed everywhere. 

And ftudied night and day ; 
Nor miffed what dean or dodlor wrote, 

That happen'd in my way. 
Philofophy I now efteem'd 

The ornament of youth, 
And careftiUy through many a page, 

I hunted after truth : 
A thoufand various fchemes I try'd. 

And yet was pleafed with none ; 
I threw them by, and tun'd my pipe 

To J o H N of Badenyon. 

And now, ye youngfters, ever3rwhere. 

Who want to make a (how. 
Take heed in time, nor vainly hope 

For happinefs below ; 
What you may fancy pleafure here. 

Is but an empty name ; 
For'friendfliip, love, and learning deep, 

You'll find them all the fame. 
Then be advifed, and warning take. 

From fuch a man as me ; 
I'm neither pope nor cardinal, 

Nor one of high degree ; 
You'll find difpleafure ev'ry where : 

Then do as I have done ; 
E'en tune your pipe, and pleafe yourfelf 

With J o H N of Badenyon. 



SCOTS SONGS. 45 

Twas within a Mile of Edinburgh. 

(2—55-). 

''P W A S within a mile of Edinburgh to'vfn, 

In the rofy time of the year, 
When the flowers were bloom*d, and grafs was down, 
And each fliepherd woo'd his dear. 
Bonny J o C K Y blyth and gay, 
Kifs'd nveet Jenny making hay; 
The laifie blulh'd, and frowning faid, 
No, no, it wonnot do, 
I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, maunot buckle too. 

O J o c K Y was a wag, that never wou'd wed, 

Though long he had followed the lafs. 
Contented Ihe work'd, and eat her brown bread, 
And merrily tum'd up the grafs. 
Bonny J o C K Y blyth and gay, 
Won her heart right merrily. 
But flill ihe blufli'd, and frowning faid, 
I cannot, &c. 

But when that he vow*d he wou*d make her his bride, 

Though his herds and his flocks were not few, 
She gave him her hand, and a kifs befides, 
And vow'd flie'd for ever be true. 
Bonny J o c K Y blyth and gay. 
Won her heart right merrily. 
At church flie no more frowning faid, 
I cannot, &c. 



Lewis Gordon. 

(2—57.) 

Q! SEND Lewis Gordon hame. 
And the lad I winna name; 

Though his back be at the wa'. 

Here's to him that's far awa' ! 
Oh, hon, my Highland man ! 
Oh, my bonny Highland man ! 
Weel wou'd I my true love ken, 
Amang ten thoufand Highlandmen. 

O to fee his tartan trews, 
Bonnet blue, and laigh-heel'd flioes, 
Phillabeg aboon his knee ! 
That's the lad I'll gang wi'. 
Oh, hon, &c. 



46 SCOTS SONGS 

The princely youth that I do mean 
Is fitted for to be a king: 
On his bread he wears a liar: 
You'd take him for the god of war. 
O hon, &c. 

O, to fee this princely one 
Seated on his father's throne ! 
Difaflers a' wou'd difappear: 
Then begins the jub'lee here ! 
O hon, &c. 



The wee thing, or Mary of Callle Gary. 

(2-58.) 

<< ^AW ye my wee thing? faw ye my ain thing? 

" Saw ye my true love down on yon lea? 
** Crofs'd Ihe the meadow, yeftreen at the gloaming? 
** Sought (he the bumie, whar flowers the haw tree. 

" Her hair it is lint white ! her Ikin it is milk white ! 

" Dark is the blue of her faft rolling ee ! 
" Red, red her ripe lips, and fweeter 3ian rofes! 

** Whar could my wee thing wander frae me?" 

" I faw na your wee thing, I faw na your ain thing, 
** Nor faw I your true love down by yon lea; 

** But I met my bonny thing late in the gloaming, 
" Down by the bumie whar flowers the haw tree. 

" Her hair it was lint white, her flcin it was milk white, 
** Dark was the blue o' her faft rolling ee ! 

** Red war her ripe lips, and fweeter than rofes ! 
** Sweet war the kifles that flie gae to me !" 



" It was na my wee thing ! it was na my ain thing I 
** It was na my true love ye met by the tree ! 

" Proud is her leil heart, and modeft her nature, 
** She never loo'd nae man till ance flie loo'd me. 

** Her name it is M A R Y, ftie's frae CaflJe Gary, 
** Aft has flie fat, when a bairn, on my knee ! 

** Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer, 

** Young braggart ! ftie ne'er would gie kifles to thee!" 



SCOTS SONGS. 47 

** It was then your Mary, Ihe's frae Caftle Gary, 
"It was then your true love I met by the tree ! 

** Proud as her heart is, and modeft her nature, 
** Sweet war the kiffes that (he gae to me ! 

** Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood red his cheek grew, 
** Wild flafh'd the fire, frae his red rolling ee, 

** Ye*s rue fair this morning, your boafts and your fcorning, 
** Defend ye faufe traitor; for loudly you lie I" 

** Awa' wi' beguiling," then cried the youth fmiling; 

AfFwent the bonnet; the lintwhite locks flee; 
The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bofom (hawing, 

Fair (lood the loo'd maid wi' the dark rolling ee ! 

** Is it my wee thing? is it my ain thing? 

** Is it my true love here that I fee?" 
**-0 J A M I E ! forgie me, your heart's conftant to me; 

"I'll nevir mair wander, my true love, frae thee." 



(2 — 62.) 
r 
'P H E R E dwall'd a man in Aberdeen, 

And nowther young nor auld was he. 

He never wanted wit at will. 

But wi't was ugly as can be. 

Mony a lafs that had the tocher. 

Wham the carl focht to join 
Wi' him to draw the pleuch of wedlock. 

Did the hatefu' ta(k decline. 

Tir'd at laft wi' (harp denyals, 
Straight he pafs'd to fiUie MEG; 

She had nowther wit nor filler. 
Here, thocht he, I fall nae beg. 

Save the gow'd o' her fair trelTes, 
Bit o' gowd ne'er had the quene; 

Nor ither jewels in po(re(rion, 
Than the jewels o' her een. 

Bot alike to her was mi(ring 

All the gowd that crouns the m3aide; 
Senfe, that jewel o' the bofom, 

She could nowthir buy nor iynde. 



48 SCOTS SONGS 

He came, he faw, he overcame; 

The fillie mayden blufli'd confent, 
Hamewart as he bent his travel, 

Thus he thocht on his intent: 

** Tho' this laflie vrant a noddle, 
** I hae wit to mak amends; 

** Tho* I'm ugly, yet her bewtie 
** In our bairns will ferve like ends. 

** Our children, I can never doubt it, 
" Will comely as their mither be; 

** And in wit and prudence fureUe 
" Thay will coppie after me. 

** Sae our race will bear perfe<5lion 
" Baith in body and in faul; 

** Surely a mair happy marriage 
** To man's lot docht never fall." 

Sae the wicht fou fondlie dremit, 
Alack the iffue was far ither ! 

The baimis were ugly as thair daddie. 
And they were foolifh as thair mither. 



TuUochgorum. 
(2—79.) 

Q O M E gie's a fang the lady cry*d, 

And lay your difputes all afide, 
What nonfenfe is't for folks to chide 

For what's been done before them. 
Let whig and tory a' agree, 
Whig and tory, whig and tory. 
Whig and tory a' agree 

To drop their whipmegorum. 
Let whig and tory a' agree 
To fpend the night wi' mirth and glee, 
And cheerfu' fmg alang wi' me, 

The reel of TuUochgorum. 

TuUochgorum's my delight, 
It gars us a' in ane unite, 
And ony fumph that keeps up fpite ; 
In confcience I abhor him. 



SCOTS SONGS. 49 

Blithe and meity we*s be a', 
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry. 
Blithe and merry we's be a', 

To make a cheerfu* quorum. 
Blithe and merry we's be a', 
As lang's we ha e a breath to draw. 
And dance till we be like to fa*, 

The reel of TuUochgorum. 

There needs na* be fo great a phrafe 
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays, 
I wadna gi'e our ain flrathfpeys 

For half a hundred fcore o'm. 
They're dowfiF and dowie at the bed, 
Dowff and dowie, dowff and dowie. 
They're dowfiF and dowie at the beft, 

Wi' a' their variorum. 
They're dowfif and dowie at the befl, 
Their allegros, and a' the reft, 
They cannot pleafe a Highland tafte. 

Compared wi' TuUochgorum. 

Let warldly minds themfelves opprefs 
Wi' fear of want and double ceis. 
And filly fauls themfelves diftrefs 

Wi' keeping up decorum. 
Shall we fae four and fulky fit, 
Sour and fulky, four and fulky, 
Shall we fae four and fulky fit 

Like auld philofophorum? 
Shall we fae four and fulky fit, 
Wi' neither fenfe, nor mirth, nor wit. 
And canna rife to (hake a fit 

At the reel o' TuUochgorum? 

May choiceft bleffings ftill attend 
Each honeft-hearted open friend, 
And calm and quiet be his end. 

Be a' that's good before him! 
May peace and plenty be his lot, 
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty. 
May peace and plenty be his lot, 

And dainties a great ftore o'ml 
May peace and plenty be his lot, 
Unftain'd by any vicious plot; 
And may he never want a groat 

That's fond of TuUochgorum. 



50 SCOTS SONGS 

But for the difcontented fool. 
Who wants to be oppreflion's tool, 
May envy gnaw his rotten foul, 

And blacked fiends devour him! 
May dole and foirow be his chance, 
Dole and forrow, dole and foirow; 
May dole and forrow be his chance, 

And honefl fouls abhor him! 
May dole and forry be his chance, 
And a' the ills that come frae France, 
Whoe'er he be that winna dance 

The reel of Tullochgorum. 



Bonny Dundee. 

(2—91.) 

Q W H A R did ye get that hauver-meal bannock? 

O filly blind body, O dinna ye fee, 
I gat it frae a young brifk fodger laddie, 

Between St. Johnflon and bonny Dundee. 
O gin I faw the laddie that gae me 't ! 

Aft has he dandled me upon his knee. 
May heaven protect my bonny Scots laddie. 

And fend him fafe hame to his babie and me. 

My bleflin's upon thy fweet wee lippie ! 

My bleffm's upon thy bonny e'e brie ! 
Thy fmiles are fae like my blyth fodger laddie, 

Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me ! 
But I'll big a bow'r on yon bonny banks. 

Where Tay rins wimplin' by fae clear ; 
And I'll deed thee in the tartan fae fine. 

And mak' thee a man like thy daddie dear. 



(2—92.) 

L E T's be jovial, fill our glaffes; 

Madnefs 'tis for us to think. 
How the world is ruled by affes, 
And the wife are ruled by chink. 

Never let vain care opprefs us; 

Riches are to all a fnare. 
We're every one as rich as Crcesus, 

While our bottle drowns our care. 



SCOTS SONGS. 51 

Wine will make us red as rofes, 

Let us all our woes forget ; 
Let us, fuddling all our nofes, 

Drink ourfelves quite out of debt. 

When grim Death is looking for us, 

We are toping at our bowls; 
Bacchus joins us in the chorus, 

** Death begone I Here's none but fouls.'* 



Green Grow the Rafhes. 
(2—82.) 

'P H E R e's nought but care on ev'ry han' 

In ev*ry hour that paiTes, O: 
What fignifies the life o man, 
An 'twere not for the laffes, O. 
Green grow the rq/hesy O; 
Green grow the rajhes^ O; 
Thefweetejl hours that ^er Ifpendy 
Are /pent amang the lajjesy O, 

The war'ly race may riches chace, 
An' riches dill may fly them, O ; 

An' tho' at laft they catch them faft. 
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. 
Green grow f &c. 

But gie me a canny hour at e'en, 

My arms about my dearie, O, 
An' warly cares, an' warly men, 

May a gae taps alteerie, O ! 
Green groWy &c. 

For you fae doufe! ye fiieer at this, 
Ye're nought but fenfelefs aifes, O; 

The wifeft man the warl' law, 
He. dearly lov'd the laffes, O. 
Green grow, &c. 

Auld Nature fwears the lovely dears 
Her noblefl work fhe claffes, O: 

Her 'prentice han' fhe tried on man. 
And then fhe made the laffes, O. 
Green grow y &c. 

D 



52 SCOTS SONGS. 

(2-83.) 

J L O o' D ne'er a laddie but ane, 

He lo'es ne'er a lafiie but me. 

He is willing to make me his ain, 

And he's ain I'm willing to be. 
He has coft me a rockly o' blue, 

And a pair o' mittens o' green. 
The price was a kifs o' my mou', 

And I paid the debt yeftreen. 

My mither's aye making a fraife, 

Saying I'm o'er young to be wed. 
But lang e'er (he counted my days, 

O' me Ihe was brought to bed. 
So had your tongue dear mither, 

And dinna be fl3rting fae bauld, 
For we can do the thing when we're young. 

That we canna do weel when we're auloT 



Cauld Kail in Aberdeen. 
(2— 16a) 

Q A U L D kail in Aberdeen, 

And caudles in Strathbogie, 
Ilka lad has got his lafs, 
Then fie gie me my cogie. 

Theft fie gie me my cogie diflk^ 

I cannd want my cogie, 
Iwddiuf gie a weel filjfd ftoup^ 
For a' the queans d Bogie. 

J o N N I E S M I T H has got a wife^ 
Wha keeps frae him his cogie; 

Gin Ihe were mine, upon my life, 
I'd dook her in the Bogie. 
Then fie, &c. 

Then here's to ilka honed life, 
Wha'U drink wi* me a cogie, 

But as for ilka gimin wife, 
We'll dook her in the Bogie. 
Then fie, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. S3 

Mucking of Geordie's Byre. 

(2—270.) 

^ S I went over yon meadow, 

And carelefsly pafTed along, 
I liilen'd with pleafure to J E N N Y, 
While mournfully fmging this fong. 

The mucking ^Geordie*s byar^ 
And thejhooling thegruipfae clean^ 
Has aft gart mefpend the night Jleeplefs^ 
And brought the fait tears in my /en. 

It was not my father's pleafure, 

Nor was it my mither's defire, 
That ever I puddl'd my fingers, 

Wi' the mucking o'Geordie's byar. 
The mucking^ &c. 

Though the roads were ever fo filthy. 

Or the day fo fcoury and foul, 
I would ay be ganging wi* Geordie; 

I lik'd it far better than fchool. 
The muckingf &c. 

My brither abufes me daily 

For being wi* Geordie fo free. 
My fifler fhe ca's me hoodwinked, 

Becaufe he*s below my degree. 
The mucking, &c. 

, But well do I like my young Geordie, 
Altho' he was cunning and flee; 
He ca's me his dear and his honey. 
And I*m fure that my Geordie loes me. 
The mucking, &c. 

The moufe is a merry beafl, 

And the moudiewort wants the een: 
But the warld fhall ne'er get wit 

Sae merry as we hae been. 
The mucjdng, &c. 



(2—292.) 

J Bought my woman and my wife half a pund of tow, 

„ I think 'twill ferve them a* their life to fpin as fail's they dov: 

I thought it had been ended when fcarce it was begun; 

And I believe my wife fall end her life and leave the tow unfpim. 



54 SCOTS SONGS. 

I looked to my yam knag^, and it grew never mair; 
I looked to my meal kill, my heart grew wondrous fair: 
I looked to my four-milk boat, and it wad never four; 
For they fupped at and flaiked at, and never fpan an hour. 

But if your wife and my wife were in a boat thegither. 

And yon honefl man's wife were in to fleer the rither; 

And if the boat were bottomlefs, and feven mile to row, 

I think my wife wou'd ne'er come back to fpin her pund of tow. 

But if e'er I be a widower, as I hope foon to be, 

I (hall never ha'e anither wife till I ken what (he can doe. 

O Ihe maun card, and (he maun fpin, and milk baith cow and ewe, 

And ikutch and clove and heckle lint and fpin a pund of tow. 



Tune, O^er the hilis and far awa. 

Let meaner beauties ufe their art, 

And range both Indias for their drefe. 
Our fair can captivate the heart 

In native weeds, nor look the lefs. 
More bright unborrow'd beauties (hine; 

The artlefs fweetnefs of each face 
Sparkles with luftre more divine 

When freed of every foreign grace. 

The tawney nymph on fcorching plains, 

May ufe the aids of gems and paint, 
Deck with brocade and Tyrian ftains 

Features of ruder form and taint. 
What Caledonian ladies wear, 

Or from the lint or woollen twine, 
Adom'd by all their fweets, appear 

Whate'er we can imagine fine. 

Apparel neat becomes the fair, 

The dirty drefs may lovers cool; 
But clean, our maids need have no care, 

If clad in linen, filk, or wool. 
Tadore Myrtilla, who can ceafe? 

Her a<5Uve charms our praife demand, 
Clad in a mantua from the fleece, 

Spun by her own delightful hand. 



SCOTS SONGS. 55 

Who can behold Calista's eyes, 

Her breaft, her cheek, her fnowy arms, 
And mind what artifls can devife. 

To rival more fuperior charms? 
Compared with thofe the diamond's dull. 

Lawns, fattins, and the velvet fade; 
The foul with her attractions full, 

Can never be by thefe betrayed. 

Sapphira, all o'er native fweets, 

Not the falfe glare of drefs regards. 
Her wit her chanufUr completes, 

Her fmile her lovers figbs rewards. 
When fuch firft beauties lead the way, 

Th' inferior rank will follow foon; 
Then arts no longer fliall decay. 

But trade encourag'd be in tune. 

Millions of fleeces fliall be wove, 

And flax that on the valleys blooms, 
Shall make the naked nations love. 

And blefs the labour of our looms. 
We have enough, nor want from them 

But trifles hardly worth our care; 
Yet for thefe trifles let them claim 

What food and cloth we have to fpare. 

How happ/s Scotland in her fairl 

Her amiable daughters fliall, 
By adling thus with virtuous care. 

Again the golden age recal: 
Enjoying them, Edina ne'er 

Sliall mifs a court; but foon advance 
In wealth, when thus the lov'd appear 

Arround the fcenes, or in the dance, 

Barbarity fliall yield to fenfe, 

And lazy pride to ufeful arts. 
When fuch dear angels in defence 

Of virtue thus engage their hearts. 
Blefs'd guardians of our joys and wealth. 

True fountains of delight and love, 
Lon^ bloom your charms, fix'd be your health. 

Till, tir'd of earth, you mount above. 



56 SCOTS SONGS. 

(2—295.) 

AS gentle turtle-dove 

By cooing (hews defire, 
As ivies oak do love, 

And twining round afpire: 
So I my B ETT Y love. 

So I my Betty woo, 
I coo as cooes the dove, 

And twine as ivies do. 

Her kifs is fweet as fpring, 

Like June her bofom*s warm; 
The autumn ne'er did bring. 

By half fo fweet a charm. 
As Uving fountains do 

Their favour ne'er repent, 
So B E T T y's bleffings grow 

The more, the more they're lent. 

Leave kindred and friends, fweet lady, 

Leave kindred and friends for me; 
Affured thy fervant is fteddy 

To love, to honour, and thee. 
The gifts of nature and fortune. 

May fly, by chance, as they came; 
They're grounds the deftinies fport on. 

But virtue is ever the fame. 

Although my fancy were roving. 

Thy charms fo heavenly appear, 
That other beauties difproving, 

I'd worihip thine only, my dear. 
And fhould life's forrows embitter 

The pleafure we promife our loves. 
To (hare them together is fitter. 

Than moan afunder like doves. 

Oh I were I but once fo bleffed. 

To grafp my love in my arms! 
By thee to be grafped and kifledl 

And live on thy heaven of charms! 
I'd laugh at fortune's caprices, 

Should fortune capricious prove; 
Though death (hould tear me to pieces, 

I die a martjnr to love. 



SCOTS SONGS. 57 

(2—297.) 

"^ ILL you go and marry, Kitty? 

Can you think to take a man? 
'Tis a pity one fo pretty 

Should not do the thing they can. 
You a charming lovely creature, 

Wherefore would you lie alone? 
Beauty's of a fading nature. 

Has a feafon to be gone. 

Therefore, while your blooming, K A T Y, 

Liften to a loving fwain, 
Take example by fair Betty, 

Once the darling of the men; 
Who, with coy and fickle nature, 

Trifled off till Ihe's grown old. 
Now lhe*s left by every creature: 

Let not this of thee be told. 

But my dear and lovely Kitty, 

This one thing I have to tell, 
I could with no man to get you, 

Save it were my very fel. 
Take me, Kitty, at my offer. 

Or be-had and Til take you; 
We*s mak' nae din about your tocher; 

Marry, Kitty, then we'll woo. 

Many words are needlefe, Kitty, 

You do want, and fo do I; 
If you would a man fliould get you, 

Then I can that want fupply: 
Say then, Kitty, fay you'll take me, 

As the very choice 01 men, 
Never after to forfake me, 

And the prieft ftiall fay Amen. 

Then, 1 then, my charming K I T T Y, 

When we're married, what comes then? 
Then no other man can get you, 

But you'll be my very ain: 
Then we'll kifs and clap at pleafure, 

Nor be troubled at envy: 
If once I had my lovely treafure. 

Let the reft admire and die. 



58 SCOTS SONGS. 

(2—305.) 

'P H £ ihepherd Adonis, being weax/d with fport, 

He for a retirement to the woods did refort 
He threw by his club, and he laid himfelf down; 
He envy'd no monardi, nor wifh'd for a crown. 

He drank of the bum, and he ate frae the tree; 
Himfelf he enjoy'd and frae trouble was free. 
He wifh'd for no nymph, tho' never iae £sdr; 
Had nae love or ambition, and therefore nae care. 

But as he lay thus, in an ev'ning fae clear, 
A heav'nly fweet voice founded faft in his ear, 
Which came frae a ihady green neighbouring grove, 
Where bonny A m Y n T a fat fmging of love. 

He wander'd that way, and found wha was there, 
He was quite confounded to fee her fae fair. 
He flood like a flatue, not a foot could he move^ 
Nor knew he what ail'd him; but he fear'd it was love. 

The njrmph fhe beheld him with a kind modeft grace. 
Seeing fomething that pleas'd her appear in his foce. 
With blufhing a little, fhe to him did fay, 

fhepherd ! what want ye? how came ye this way? 

His fpirits reviving, he to her reply*d, 

1 was ne'er fae furpris'd at the fight of a maid. 
Until I beheld thee, from love I was free; 
But now I*m ta'en captive, my fairefl, by thee. 



(2—306.) 

SWEET Nelly, my heart's delight. 

Be loving and do not flight 
The proffer I make, for modefl3r's fake; 

I honour your b^uty bright 
For, love, I profefs, I can do no lefs, 

Thou hafl my favour won. 
And fince I fee your modefly, 
I pray agree and fancy me. 

Though I'm but a farmer's fon. 



SCOTS SONGS. 59 

No; Pm a lady gay; 

' Its very well kngwn^ I may 
Have men of renown^ in country or town: 

Soy Roger, without delay, 
Cwr/ Bridget, (ttSue, Kate, Nancy, Prue, 

TTieir loves willfoon be won. 
But dontyou dare to /peak me fairy 
As ikd J were at my laftpra^^r 

To marry a farmer' s Jon, 

My father has riches m (lore. 

Two hundred a year and more, 
Belides fheep and cows, carts, harrows, and ploughs; 

His age is above threefcore: 
And when he does die, then merrily I 

, Shall have what he has won. 
Both land and kine, all (hall be thine, 
If thou*lt incline and wilt be mine, 

And many a fiurmer's fon. 

A fig for your cattle and corn; 
Your proffered love If com. 

* Tis known very well, my name it is NEhi., 
Andyou*re but a bumpkin bom, 

« 

Well, fince it is fo, away I will go, 

And I hope no harm is done. 
Farewell, adieu. I hope to woo 
As good as you, and win her too, 

Tho* I'm but a figmner's fon. 

Be not in fuck kafle, quoth Jhe, 

Perhaps we mayftill agree: 

For, man, I protefl, I was butinjefl; 

Come, prithee, fit down by me; 

For thou art the many that verily can 

Perform what mufl be done; 
Bothfirait and tally genteel withdly 
Therefore Ifhall be at your ccdly 

To marry a farmers fon* 

Dear lady believe me now; 

I folemnly fwear and vow, 

No lords in their lives take pleafure in wives, 

Like fellows that drive the plough; 



6o SCOTS SONGS. 

For whate'er they gain with labour and pain, 

, They dont to harlots run, 
As courtiers do. I never knew 
A London beau, that could outdo 
A country £eirmer's fon. 



(2-308.) 

J^ O W bleft has my time been, what joys have I known. 
Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jessy my own? 

So joyfid my heart is, fo eafy my chain, 

That freedom is taflelefs, and roving a pain, 
That freedom is taflelefs, &c. 

Through walks grown with woodbines as often we ftray. 
Around us our boys and girls frolic and play; 
How pleafing their fport is ! the wanton ones fee. 
And borrow their looks from my Jessy and .me. 
And borrow their looks, &c. 

To try her fweet temper, oft-times am I feen, 
In revels all day, with the nymphs on the green; 
Though painful my abfence, my doubts fhe b^^uiles. 
And meets me at night with complacence and fmiles. 
And meets me at night, &c. 

What though on her cheeks the rofe lofes its hue. 
Her wit and good-humour bloom all the year through; 
Time ftill as he flies, adds increafe to her truth, 
And gives to her mind what he fteals from her youth. 
And gives to her mind, &c. 

Ye fhepherds fo gay, who make love to enfnare. 
And cheat with falfe vows the too credulous fair; 
In fearch of true pleafure, how vainly you roam? 
To hold it for life you mufl find it at home. 
To hold it for life, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 6i 

Sandy o'er the Lee. 
(2—309.) 

J W I N N A marry ony man but Sandy o'er the lee, 

I wimia hae the domminee, for gude he camia be, 
But I will hae my S A N D Y lad, my S A N D Y o'er the lee, 

For his aye a kiffing, kiffingy kijfmgy 

Aye a kiffing me. 

I will not have the minifter for all his godly looks, 
Nor yet will I the lawyer have, for all his wylie crooks; 
I will not have the ploughman lad, nor yet will I the miller, 
But I will hae my S A N D Y lad without one penny filler. 
Far his aye a kiffingy &c. 

I will not hae the foldier lad, for he gangs to the war, 
I will not hae the failor lad becaufe he imdls o' tar; 
I will not have the lord nor laird for all their mickle gear, 
But I will hae my S A N D y lad, my S A N D Y o'er the meir. 
Far his aye a kiffingy &c. 



The Country Wedding. 

(2—310.) 

(^ O M E hafle to the wedding ye friends and ye neighbours. 

The lovers their blifs can no longer delay: 
Forget all your forrows, your cares, and your labours. 
And let ev'ry heart beat with rapture to-day. 
Ye votaries all attend to my call. 

Come revel in pleafures that never can cloy; 
Come, fee rural felicity, 
Which love and innocence ever enjoy. 
Come, fee, &c. 

Let envy, let pride, let hate and ambition, 
Still crowd to, and beat at the breafl of the great; 

To such wretched paifions we give no admif&on. 
But leave them sdone to the wife ones of State. 

We boaft of no wealth but contentment and health, 
In mirth and in friendlhip our moments employ. 
Come, fee, &c. 



62 SCOTS SONGS, 

With reafon we taile of each heart-ftirring pleafure; 

With reafon we drink of the fiill flowing bowl, 
Are jocund and gay, but all within meafure. 

For fatal excels will enilave the free fouL 
Then come at our bidding to this happy wedding, 

No care ihall obtrude here our bins to annoy. 
Come, fee, &c 



Jockey to the Fair. 

(2—3") 

'f W A S on the mom of fweet May-day, 

When Nature painted all things gay. 
Taught birds to Ung and lambs to play, 

And guild the meadows fair; 
Young Jockey early in the mom 
Arofe, and tript it o*er the lawn; 
His Sunday's coat the youth put on. 
For Jenny had vow'd away to ran 

With Jockey to the fair. 

For Jenny had voVd, &c. 

The cheerful pariih bells had rang. 
With eager Heps he trudged along, 
With floVry garlands round him hung. 

Which fhepherds ufed to wear; 
He tapt the window, Hafle, my dear; 
T E N N Y, impatient, cry'd. Who's there? 
Tis I, my love, and no one near, 
Step gently down, youVe nought to fear, 

With Jockey to the fair. 

Step gently down, &c. 

My dad and mammy's fafl afleep, 
My brother's up and with the flieep; 
And will you flill your promife keep, 

Which I have heard you fwear? 
And will you ever conflant prove? 
I will, by all the pow'rs above. 
And ne'er deceive my charming dove, 
Difpel thofe doubts, and hafle, my love^ 

With Jockey to the fair. 

Difpel thofe doubts, &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. 63 

Behold the ring! the (hepherd ciyd, 
Will Jenny be my charming bride? 
Let Cupid be our happy guide, 

And Hymen meet us there: 
Then Jockey did his vows renew, 
He wou*d be conflant, wou'd be true. 
His word was pledged, away (he flew 
With Cowflips tipt with balmy dew. 

With Jockey to the fair. 

With cowilips tipt, &c 

In raptures meet the joyful train. 
Their gay companions blithe and young. 
Each join the dance, each join the throng. 

To hail the happy pair: 
In turns there's none fo fond as they. 
They blefs the kind propitious day, 
The fmiling mom of blooming May, 
When lovely Jenny ran away 

With Jockey to the fair. 

When lovely Jenny, &c. 



Scant of Love, Want of Love. 
(2—313.) 

'P H E auld man he courted me. 
Scant of love, want of love; 
The auld man he courted me, 

Thoughtlefs as I am. 
And I, for the fake of pelf. 

Yielded to give myfelf 
To the cauld arms of 

The filly auld man. 

The auld man did marry me, 

Scant of love, want of love; 
The auld man did marry me, 

Wanton as I am; 
The auld man did marry me. 

And home did carry me: 
Never, never, while you live, 

Wed an auld man. 



/... 



64 SCOTS SONGS 

The auld man and I went to bed, 

Scant of love, want of love; 
The auld man and I went to bed, 

Handfome as I am: 
The auld man and I went to bed, 

But he neither did nor faid 
What brides expect, when laid 

By a gudeman. 

The auld man foon fell afleep. 

Scant of love, want of love; 
The auld man foon fell afleep. 

Left me as I am; 
The auld man foon fell afleep, 

Think you that I would weep? 
Na, but I flraight did creep 

To a young man. 

Where I lay all the night, 

No fcant, no want of love; 
Where I lay all the night, 

Who fo happy then? 
Where I lay all the night. 

In raptures and delight; 
So Ihould all young wives treat 

Fumbling auld men. 



Cauld Kail in Aberdeen, 
(2—315.) 

'P HERE'S cauld kail in Aberdeen, 

And caftocks in Stra'bogie; 
Gin I hae but a bonny lafs, 
Your welcome to your cc^ie. 
And ye may fit up a* the night. 
And drink till it be braid day-light; 
Gie me a lafs baith clean and tight. 
To dance the reel of Bogie. 

In cotillons the French excel; 
John Bull in countra dances ; 
The Spaniards dance fandangos well. 
Mynheer in all 'mande prances : 



SCOTS SONGS. 65 

In fourfome reels the Scots delight, 
The threefome maifl dance wondrous light ; 
But twafome ding a' out o' fight, 
Danc'd to the reel of Bogie. 

Come, lads, and view your partners well. 
Wale each a blythfome rogie; 
I'll talc this laflie to myfel. 
She feems fo keen andvogie: 
Now, piper lad, bang up the fpring; 
The countra fafliion is the thing, 
To prie their mous ere we begin 
To dance the reel of Bogie. 

Now ilka lad has got a lafs 
Save yon auld doited fogie. 
And ta'en a fling upo' the grafs. 
As they do in Stra*bogie. 
But a' the laiTies look fae fain. 
We canna think ourfels to hain; 
For they maun hae their come-again 
To dance the reel of Bogie. 

Now 2! the lads hae done their bell. 

Like true men of Stra'bogie; 

We*U flop a while and tak a refl. 

And tipple out a cogie: 

Come now, my lads, and tak your glafs, 

And try ilk other to furpafs 

In wifhing health to every lafs 

To dance the reel of Bogie. 



The Waefu* Heart 
(2—317.) 

Q. I N living worth could win my hear:. 

You wou'd nae fpeak in vain; 
But in the darkfome grave it's lai(^ 

Never to rife again. 
My waefu' heart Ties low wi' his, 

Whofe heart was only mine: 
And oh ! what a heart was that to lofe; 

But I maun no repine. 



66 SCOTS SONGS 

Yet oh ! gin heav*n in mercy foon 

Wou'd grant the boon I crave, 
And tak this life, now naething worth. 

Sin J AM I e' s in his grave; 
And fee his gentle fpirit comes 

To (how me on my way, 
Supris'd nae doubt, I fUll am here^ 

Saer wond'ring at my flay. 

I come, I come, my J A m i e dear, 

And oh ! wi* what gude will 
I follow, wharfoe'er ye lead. 

Ye canna lead to ill. 
She laid, and foon a deadlie pale 

Her fading cheek poifell. 
Her waefu* heart forgot to beat. 

Her forrows funk to reft. 



The Ewy wi* the Crooked Horn. 

O WERE I able to rehearfe 

My cwy's praife in proper verfe, 
I'd found it out as loud and fierce 
As ever piper's drone could blaw. 
My ewy wT the crooked Hom^ 
A that ketCd her coiid haefwom^ 
Sic a ewe was never bom. 
Hereabouts nor far awa^. 

She neither needed tar nor keel 
To mark her upo* hip or heel, 
Her crooked homy aid as weel, 
To ken her by among them a*. 
My ewy, &c. 

She never threaten'd fcab nor rot. 
But keepit ay her ain jog trot, 
Baith to the fauld and to the cot^ 
Was never fwier to leid nor ca.* 
My ewy f &c. 



SCOTS SONGS. (>^ 

A better or a thriftier beaft 
Nae honefl man need e*er hae wifli*d; 
For, filly thing, flie never mifs'd 
To hae ilk year a lamb or twa. 
My ewy^ &c. 

The firft (he had, I gae to J oc K, 
To be to him a kind of ftock; 
And now the laddie has a flock 
Of mair than thirty head and twa. 
My ewy^ &c. 

The neeft I gae to T e a n; and now 
The bairn's fee bra , has fauld fae fti*, 
That lads fae thick come her to woo. 
They're fein to fleep on hay or ftraw. 
My ewy, &c. 

Cauld or hunger never dang her; 
Wind or rain could never wrang her; 
Anes flie lay an owk and langer 
Forth aneath a wreath o' fnaw. 
My eivy, &c. 

When ither ewies lap the dyke, 
And ate the kail for a' my tyke. 
My ewy never play'd the Hke, 
But tees'd about the bam wa*. 
My ewy^ &c. 

I looked ay at even for her. 
Left miftianter fliould come o'er her, 
Or the ftimart might devour her. 
Gin the beafty bade awa'. 
My eivyy &c. 

Yet laft owk for a' my keeping 
(Wha can tell o't without greeting), 
A villain came when I was ileepmg, 
Staw my ewie, horn and a'. 
My ewky &c. 

I fought her fair upo' the mom, 
And down aneath a bufh o' thorn, 
There I fand her crooked hom; 
But my ewy was awa*. 
My ewy, &c. 
E 



68 SCOTS SONGS. 

But gin I find the loon that did it, 
I hae fwom as well as laid it, 
Altho' the laird himfel forbid it, 
I iall gie his neck a thraw. 
My ewy, &c. 

I never met wi' fie a turn; 
At e'en I had baith ewe and horn 
Safe fleikit up; but 'gain the mom, 
Baith ewe and horn were ftown awa. 
My ewy y &c 

A' the clais that we hae worn 
Frae her and hers fae aft was fliom; 
The lofs o' her he could hae borne. 
Had fair ftrae death ta'en her awa'. 
My ewy i &c. 

had Ihe died o' croup or cauld, 
As ewies die when they grow auld, 
It had na been by mony fauld, 

Sae laer a heart to ane o' us a'. 
My ewy^ &c. 

But thus, poor thing, to lofe her life. 
Beneath a bloody villain's knife; 

1 troth I fear that our gudewife, 
Will never get aboon't ava. 

My ewy, &c. 

O all ye bards ayond Kinghom, 
CsJl up your Mufes, let them mourn 
Our ewy wi' the crooked horn, 
Frae us ftown, and feU'd and a'. 
My ewy, &c 



The Siller Crown. 
(2—321.) 

^N D ye fall walk in filk attire. 

And fdler hae to fpare, 
Gin ye'll confent to be his bride, 
Nor think o' D o N A L D mair. 



SCOTS SONGS. 69 

Oh ! wha wad bny a filken gown, 

Wi' a poor broken heart; 
Or what's to me a filler crown, 

Gin frae my love I part 

The mind whafe every wilh is pure, 

Far dearer is to me; 
And ere I*m forced to brack my faith, 

m lay me down and die: 
For I hae pledg'd my virgin troth. 

Brave D o N A L D*^s fete to Ihare; 
And he has gi'en to me his heart, 

Wi' a' its virtues rare. 

His gentle manners wan my heart, 

He, sratefii*, took the gift; 
Cou'd I but think to feek.it back. 

It wou'd be war than thift 
For langeft life can ne*er repay 

The love he bears to me; 
And e'er I'm forc'd to brack my troth, 

I'U lay me down and die. 



To the Greenwood Gang Wi' me. 

(2—322.) 

'P O Jfoeer my love, wi' glances fair, 

llie woodland laddie came; 
He vow'd he wou'd be ay fmcere, 

And thus he fpake his Hame: 
The mom is blythe, my bonny £eiir, 

As blythe as blyUie can be; 
To the green wood gang my laffie dear. 
To the green wood gang wi' me, 

Gangwf me, gangw^ me. 

To the green wood gang my laJJU dear. 

To the green wood gang wi* me. 

The lad wi* love was fo opprefs'd 

I wadna fay him nay; 
My lips he kifs'd, my head he prefs'd, 

While tripping o'er the brae: 



70 SCOTS SONGS. 

Dear lad, I cry'd, thou'rt trig and fak, 
And blythe as blythe can be, 

To the green wood gang my laddie dear, 
To the green wo<xl gang wi' me. 
GangToC me^ &c. 

The bridal day is come to pafs. 

Sic joy was never feen; 
Now I am call'd the woodland lafs, 

The woodland laddie's queen: 
I bleis the mom fo frelh and £ur, 

I told my mind fo free; 
To the green wood gang my laddie dear, 

To the green wood gang wi' me. 
Gat^ wC nUf &c. 



Johnny and Mary. 
(2—324.) 

£)0 WN the bum and thro' the mead. 

His golden locks wav'd o'er his brow; 
Johnny lilting, tun*d his reed. 
And Mary wip*d her bonny mou*; 
Dear fhe loo'd the well-known fong, 
While her J o H N N Y, blythe and bonny. 
Song her praife the whole day long. 
Down the bum and thra the mead^ 
His golden locks wau/d der his bronv; 
Johnny lilting^ tun*d his reed. 
And Mary wifd her bonny mot^. 

CoiUy claiths flie had but few; 
Of rings and jewels nae great (lore; 
Her face was fair, her love was trae, 
And Johnny wifely wilh*d nae more : 
Love s the pearl the Ihepherd's prize; 
O'er the moimtain, near the fountain. 
Love delights the ihepherd's eyes. 
Down the bum, &c 



SCOTS SONGS. 71 

Gold and titles give not health, 
And Johnny cou'd tiae thefe impart; 

Youthfu' Mary's greateft wealth 
Was ftill her faithfu* Johnny's heart: 

Sweet the joys the Lovers find, 
Great the treafure, fweet the pleafure, 

Where the heart is always kind. 
Down the bum^ &c. 



To the Tune of Roy Stuart. 
(2—325.) 

]yjY Jockey isa bonny lad, 

A dainty lad, a merry lad, 
A neat, fweet, pretty, little lad, 

And jufl the lad for me. 
For when we o'er the meadows ftray, 
He's aye fae lively, aye iae gay, 
And aft right cmminfi^ does he &y 
There's nane he loes like me. 
And then hefds a kiffing, clappings hugging, 
fqueesingy tauzlingy prefflng^ tuinna let me be. 

I met my lad t'other day, 
FriUdng o'er yon field of hay; 
Says he, Dear lafiie, will you flay, 

And crack awhile wi' me? 
Na, Jockey lad, I darena flay. 
My mither will mifs me away, 
And then fhe'U flyte and fcold a' day. 
And play the deU wi' me. 
But Jockey he took had o* me, and fell a 
hij/lng,/queezing, prejfmg, hugging, teazing, 
fqueezing, preffing, till haith dawn fell we. 

Hoot, Jockey, fee my hair is down; 
And look you've torn a' my gown, 
And how will I get thro' the town; 

Come, Jockey, let me be. 
He never minded what I faid, 
But wi' my neck and bofom pla/d; 
I intreated, beg'd and pra/d him 

Not to touzle me. 
But Jockey hi JHll continued hugging^ &c. 



72 



SCOTS SONGS 



Breathlefs and fatigu'd I lay, 

In his arms amang the hay; 

My blood faft thro* my vems did play, 

While he was kiffing me. 
I thought my ftrcngth could never laft; 
For Jockey danc'd maift derilifh faft: 
And for ony mair that's paft, 

Deil ane need care but me. 

At laft he wearied o' his jmnping, 
O* his dancing, o' his prancing; 
Then confefs'd, without romancing, 
He was fain to let me be. 




INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



And ye fall walk in filk attire, 68 

As gentle turtle-dove, 56 

As I went over yon meadow, 53 

(Mucking of Geordiis Byre.) 

As o'er the mountain's graffy fide, 42 

Cauld kail in Aberdeen, 52 

Come gie's a fang the lady ciyd, 48 

( TuUochgorum, ) 
Come haile ye to the wedding ye friends and ye neighbours, 61 

(77ie Country Wedding,) 

Down the bum and thro' the mead, 70 

Gin living worth could win my heart, 65 

(The Waefu' Heart.) 

Graith my fwifteft fleid, faid Livingflon, 29 

Her flieep had in clufters kept clofe by the grove, 41 

How bleft has my time been, what joys have I known, 60 

I bought my woman and my wife half a pund of tow, 53 

I loo'd ne'er a laddie but ane, 52 

I winna marry ony man but Sandy o'er the lee, 61 

I wilh I were where Helen lies, 35 

Leander on the Bay, 35 

Let meaner beauties ufe their art, 54 

Let's be jovial, fill our glafles, 50 

lithe and liilen, gentlemen, 3 

Lo quhat it is to lufe, 32 

My Jockey is a bonny lad, 71 

(Ay kiffing, clappings hugging.) 

Oh ! I hae loll my filken ihood, 33 

Oh fpare that dreadM thought, 32 

On yonder hiU a caille (lands, 24 

O I fend Lewis Gordon hame^ 45 

O were I able to rehearfe, 66 

( The Ewy tvC the Crooked Horn,) 



19mm 



74 INDEX. 

O whar did ye get that hauver-meal bannock? S^ 

Return, retum, ye men of bluid, 9 

Ro/s wife of Aldivalloch, * 4^ 

Saw ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing? 4^ 

Shrilly Ihiiek'd the raging wind, 2i 

Sweet Nelly, my heart's delight^ 5^ 

The anld man he courted me, ^3 

( Scant of lAme, Want of Love.) 

The man wha lues £Eiir nature's charms, 37 

The moon had climb'd the higheft hill, 3^ 

There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, 64 

There's nought but care on ev'ry han' 5' 

There dwall'd a man in Aberdeen, 47 

The (hepherd Adonis, being weary'd with fport, 5^ 

There were twa iiilers liv'd in a bouir, 20 

Thy braes were bonny. Yarrow flream, 22 

To fpeer my love, wi' glances fair, 69 

'Twas on the mom of fweet May-day, 62 

(Jockey to the Fair.) 

'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town, 45 

Up amang yon clifty rocks, 40 

Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? 39 

When firfl I came to be a man, 43 

Will ye gang o'er the lee-rigg, 42 

Will you go and marry, Kitty? 57 

When I was in my fe'enteenth year, 31 

When the fheep are in the fauld and the kye at hame, 34 



Glasgow: printed by Robert Anderson, 22 Ann Street. 



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